The Hardest of Hearts
by Rachel Greenwood
Summary: In this version Cal and Rose don't sail on the Titanic, but their engagement isn't any happier. As she wonders what to do, Cal makes some very dangerous enemies. Will they be brought together, or will their struggle push them even further apart?
1. Chapter 1

She was the loveliest girl he had ever seen. Cal noticed her from across the room. Her red hair was swept back into an artfully messy bun. She wore a simple strand of pearls and a snow white dress. Her features were exquisite, her figure, perfect. "Who is _that_?" he asked.

Eric searched the room. "Oh, her?" he said. "That's Rose Dewitt-Bukator. Her father was the one involved in that unfortunate business last summer."

"You don't mean Henry, do you?" Cal said. "I didn't know he had a daughter."

"She's just made her debut," Eric said.

"She's extraordinary."

Eric smiled. "Found something you want, have you?"

"I've wanted many women," Cal said. "I _need_ her."

Eric chuckled. "Good luck."

"I don't rely on luck."

…

Rose was startled by Cal's sudden appearance at her side, though she hid it well. "Hello," she said politely, offering a smile. "I don't believe we've met."

"No." He bowed slightly. "I couldn't help noticing you. Allow me to introduce myself. Caledon Hockley."

The name was familiar. She was sure she'd heard it somewhere before. "Pleased to make your acquaintance. I'm-"

"I know who you are," Cal said. He flashed a charming grin. "I inquire."

"Oh, well, I'm flattered by the compliment. Thank you."

"Would you care to dance?" he asked.

"Alright," she said.

That was how it began. He danced well, and she found herself spending the rest of the party with him. Their talk was the usual polite inquiries and observations, nothing of any depth was said, but she hadn't really expected it would be. Cal was charming and well-mannered, but she doubted if anything lived below his immaculately groomed surface.

Cal wasted no time in finding out as much about her as possible. Most of his information concerned her family's financial situation. It was dire, indeed, even more so than he first suspected. That wasn't a problem; he had more than enough money to make up for it. And few people know, though there were the occasional whispers. Still, they weren't about Rose herself, and even if they had been. There was a strong possibility Cal wouldn't have cared. He wanted Rose; he needed her, and that was that.

….

He was at the next party. Rose hardly made it into the room before Cal was in front of her. "We meet again," he said with a smile.

She nodded. "Well, it's a large party and a small social circle," she said, not unpleasantly. "That's likely to happen."

Cal chuckled. It wasn't quite the response he expected, far from it, but he liked it. He wasn't sure if Rose was unaware of who he was—and thus, oblivious to the honor of his attentions—or if she just didn't care. Either way, he was more intrigued than ever. "May I have the pleasure of dancing with you again this evening?" he asked, offering his hand.

Rose felt her mother's eyes on her back. Ruth watched every move. Saying no wasn't an option. She wasn't entirely sure how she felt about this man, or what she thought about him, aside from her belief that he was as shallow as most of the people they knew. That wasn't exactly a character flaw, at least, not in their circle, and he certainly seemed pleasant enough. "I would be delighted," she answered, taking his hand.

Cal danced well. It was a thought she had more than once over the course of the next month. He was at every party she attended, and he always managed to ask her to dance before anyone else. They were supposed to switch partners throughout the evening, but by their third party together, Cal didn't bother anymore. "It's such trouble going off with another girl for ten minutes and having to find you again," he said.

"Don't you think it's a bit unfair to spend so much time together?" Rose asked. "We aren't the only people here, after all. It may look inappropriate."

Cal swept her across the ballroom floor, a hand on her waist. "I'm not interested in anyone but you," he said. "And nothing I do is inappropriate."

Rose couldn't help smiling. It _was_ flattering, even if she wasn't certain she cared for this man. He was good-looking, that was undeniable. He had an air of authority, and it was obvious he expected to get his own way in all matters. It was a bit attractive at times, like that one. She could see why some people were drawn to him. It gave her pause, though. A man like that commanded the entire room easily; a man like that could keep you safe, but he would also expect to command _you_ , as well. Rose knew she couldn't live with that. He was gracious and charming, but her instincts told her to be careful with him. Despite her initial conclusion, there was a whole world beneath his smooth surface, and she suspected not all of it was good.

Her mother was overjoyed by the budding romance, though she contained it. Ruth limited herself to encouraging remarks, reminding Rose of their position and of Cal's. "Yes, I know," was Rose's invariable answer. "I'm not discouraging him, Mother."

"Well, don't be too enthusiastic either," Ruth cautioned. "He can't think you're running after him."

"I won't. I know."

When she was alone Rose sighed and stared at herself in the mirror. She was said to be beautiful. Everyone agreed; everyone had always agreed on that point. It was her one redeeming quality; her beauty made up for her being a girl. No-one ever said it in those words, but she knew. Her beauty would get her a suitable husband, and without that, what use was she to anyone. If she'd had a fortune of her own or been expected to inherit, things would have been different. A girl with her own money could generally do as she liked, up to a point, at least, but a girl without money, even such a lovely one, had no real choices.

Rose touched her mouth. _This_ was what Cal loved. Her face, her body, her curls. He loved the swell of her breast, the curve of her waist, the way she wore clothes. He loved her smooth, creamy skin and fine eyes. He didn't love her mind, her intelligence or her opinions. He didn't love that she could recite dozens of poems or her knowledge of history and art. He didn't love her skill as a pianist. He didn't love her hopes and secret fears. He knew nothing about them. He never asked, and she never told him.

As he escorted her into yet another dinner, Rose wondered if it could even be called love. As far as she could tell, any girl could take her place, and as long as she was sufficiently attractive, Cal would never notice. _That_ bothered her as much as her fears about his domineering ways. If she was doomed to marry a man out of necessity, must it be a man who expected to control most, if not all, of her life? And couldn't she at least care for him? Was it too much to ask that he love her, truly love _her_ , and not just her most pleasing attributes?

It was absurd. It was childish. She was being difficult again. But Rose couldn't feel otherwise, and she suspected, she shouldn't have to. It was the world they lived in, the arbitrary rules they set for themselves that were absurd and childish; _they_ were difficult, not her. Rose glanced at Cal. Would he ever understand? Was three any situation that could make him understand?

…..

"I hope this isn't too forward of me," Cal said. They were in the back garden, alone. Over the course of the past few months Ruth had allowed them more and more time unchaperoned, to Rose's disappointment. He hadn't done anything to dislike him for. In fact, he had grown increasingly affectionate and attentive, but there was a demanding quality to it, as though she should be flattered by every smile he gave. And he was so difficult to talk to.

He faced her, hand in his pocket. Rose's heart beat faster. She knew exactly what was coming. Her mother had predicted it. So had all of her friends. He opened the box, revealing a magnificent diamond ring. Rose sucked in her breath. Cal grinned proudly. It never occurred to him there's more than one kind of overwhelmed. "My feelings for you are no secret," he said. "I don't ask this lightly. Rose, sweetpea—" He placed the ring on her hand, and she tried not to roll her eyes at the pet name. He was so self-assured, she thought. Did he ever think she might say no? Had anyone ever told him "No" about anything? "Would you be my wife?" he asked.

Rose looked at the ring and then at him. Saying no was impossible; somehow, he made it impossible.

…..

"I don't want to hear it," Cal said impatiently. "I'm getting married next month. That's what I should be focusing on, not this nonsense."

John Spenser kept his expression blank. He was tall, thin, and balding early; the last quality he secretly blamed on Cal. He glanced enviously at his full head of glossy, black hair. No stress for him, no worries. Everything was always taken care of by someone else. "Sir, I realize that," John said.

"If you do, then why are you still bringing this to me?" Cal demanded.

"We need you to make the final decisions. The men—"

"Get rid of them," Cal said.

" _All_ of them, sir? Shouldn't we make an example of the leaders only?"

Cal's eyes narrowed. 'Are you questioning my decision?" he said, his voice low and cold. "I'm late for dinner with my fiancée because of this absurd problem, one _you_ should be able to handle, and you question the way I choose to resolve it? Perhaps I should include you in this," he added. "The mills will need new workers, and perhaps this one needs a new foreman as well."

John's mouth went dry. "Sir, I don't think that's necessary. I-"

"Failed to stop this insurrection before it began," Cal replied. "I pay you to maintain order, to keep the place running smoothly and profitably, not to allow agitators to stir up the workers."

"I assure you it won't happen again," John said.

"I know it won't. I'll find someone competent to take over your job." Cal waved his hand dismissively. "I'm sweeping everything clean."

John couldn't believe his ears. Fired? Just like that? And after twelve years? Twelve years of hard work, of always being on time, staying late, rarely missing a day? His disbelief turned to anger, and he opened his mouth to speak. He closed it again, shoulders slumped. There was nothing he could say to change it. Cal's mind was made up. He didn't care about the rent that was due next week, his son's dentist bills, his daughter's school fees, the shoes his wife needed, the new clothes they all needed, or the thousand other expenses his foreman's pay barely covered. None of that mattered. How could it? It didn't touch Cal. Men would come and go, struggling by, and he would remain the same, just as rick and cold as ever. John shot him a disgusted look before walking out.

….

"I'm sorry I'm late," Cal said. He sat down next to Rose. "I was held up at the office."

"That's quite alright," Ruth said congenially. "Mr. Hockley, you know Lucille de Beauvoir."

He smiled in the direction of a handsome, older woman. "Yes, of course. Lovely to see you again," he said.

"And Gregory Egan," Ruth went on. The two men exchanged nods. "And this is Charles Miniver," she said, indicating the man on Cal's right. "Mr. Miniver is in the importing business," she explained. "We were just telling him a little about what you do."

"It isn't very interesting, I'm afraid," Cal said. He looked over at Rose. "It takes up far more of my time than I care for, especially now."

Rose pretended not to hear the implication in his voice. She'd been relieved when he didn't arrive. The closer the wedding came, the more pressure she felt around him. Nothing ever seemed right to her. Everyone, even the maids, kept telling her what an honor it was to be chosen by a man like him. They told her how lucky she was. But where was the honor in being chosen simply for being beautiful? And was there no honor in being chosen by _her_? Why didn't anyone say how lucky Cal was?

Except, she hadn't really chosen him, had she?

…

"He can't do that!" Dan burst out. "He can't get rid of everyone like that!" He was a round man with black curls and a mustache.

"He can," John said. "He had. I'm out too."

"But you weren't part of it," Dan said. "It was me and Sid that started everything. Why punish you? You _betrayed_ us."

"Because he wants to send a message," Sid explained. He was a well-build man with thick, blonde hair and large bands. "He knows next time it might succeed. He can't let that happen."

"That's it," John agreed. "Look, I'm sorry for what I did. I was only—"

"You were thinking of yourself and your own family," Sid said. "You thought he would reward your loyalty. It's understandable. But now you see we were right. That bastard must be made to listen. Only a show of force will make him see us as human beings with needs and rights just like him."

"There's nothing we can do now," Dan said dejectedly.

"I don't know _what_ to do now," John sighed. "With a dismissal like this on my record…I just don't know."

"I know," Sid said. "I know exactly what we should do."

…

Rose sat in her room, clothes spread around her. Each piece was exquisite, designed and sewn just for her. Her wedding dress hung in the wardrobe, carefully wrapped in tissue paper. She had never worn any of them, except for fittings. They had all been bought for the trip to Europe, after the wedding. Bought by Cal. He paid for everything now. The house was safely her mother's again, as was its contents. The summer places in Newport and the Hamptons, the cars, the yacht. He invested for her, creating an income of her own.

Nothing of the sort was done for Rose. She owned no property and had no investments. She had no money of her own and little actual cash. Bills were sent to Cal, or she was given signed, blank checks and letters of credit. Once, as she watched him take money from his personal safe, Rose wondered what it would be like to grab a stack of bills and run away. He let her see the combination. She was obviously not considered a security risk. It would be so easy.

But where would she go? And what would she do once she got there? Those were questions Rose could never answer. She had dreams, but they were all too vague. Even if she'd had the courage to go through with it, she had no idea where to begin.

…..

"Are you sure about this?" Dan said. "What if someone sees us?"

"They won't," Sid assured him. "Just follow the plan, and everything'll be just fine."

"Maybe he's right," John said. "At least we should wait until dark."

"We'll look more suspicious at night," Sid argued. "We already went over all this, remember? Two days we went over the plan. Don't lose your nerve now."

"It's risky, that's all," Dan said.

"Is it any riskier than the way you're living now?" Sid asked. "No jobs? Families to feed? Rent to pay? Wages that can barely keep you afloat, and a bat to the head if you complain?" Sid gave them probing looks. "We're doing what we have to," he went on. "For ourselves and our families and for all the other poor saps men like Hockley spit on and walk past. We have to make them see we won't take it anymore."

"I know," Dan said. "It's getting caught I'm worried about."

"We won't get caught," Sid insisted. "And with what we get from this, we'll be set for life. Trust me."

John nodded. "Let's go."

…..

It looked like an ordinary delivery van, and in fact, it was. They'd stolen it from a produce company and switched the license plates. They drove slowly, watching the neighborhood. No-one was about at that time of day. Thanks to one of Dan's contacts, they knew when Cal would be home for the afternoon. Sid called that an unexpected bonus. "No-one'll ever expect it to happen right after lunch," he said.

They pulled the van up to the back garden wall. Anyone who noticed it would think they were making a routine delivery for the cook. They weren't parked in the correct place, but that wasn't enough to arouse suspicion. Servants likely wouldn't care, and their employers likely wouldn't even notice. After all, as John pointed out, they were incredibly oblivious people.

They hurried into the garden and settled in the bushes to watch the house. Soon, they would make their way inside. Cal's study was on the first floor. The veranda doors led into the back parlor, which was across the hall from the study. They would corner him there and take him out through the parlor. They'd ditch the van once they were finished.

"Look," John whispered.

The veranda doors opened, and to their utter delight, out walked Cal. "I can't believe it," Dan whispered. "This will be even easier than we thought."

Rose followed him out. "Who's that?" John asked.

"Someone who'll ruin things," Dan replied.

"Not necessarily," Sid said.

"We only need him," John argued.

"But think how much more we'll get for both of them," Sid pointed out. His gaze wandered over rose. "A lovely girl like that ought to bring in plenty and make a point as well."

"Is something wrong, sweetpea?" Cal was asking.

"No, of course not," Rose answered.

"There is," Cal said. "I can tell. Is it something to do with the wedding? Are you unhappy with the arrangements?"

 _It's the wedding itself_ , she wanted to say. _It's too much, too fast, and all for the wrong reasons._ "The arrangements are perfect," she said. "I can't object to anything." It wasn't a lie. The arrangements _were_ perfect. If it had been anyone else's wedding, she would have loved them.

"If you—" They were upon them before Cal could say any more. A sack was thrown over his head, and his arms were pinned to his sides. Rose's scream was cut off by a cloth being stuffed into her mouth. A sack was placed over her head as well. Cal struggled to break free, but a well-aimed blow ended that. Rose's hands were tied. She kicked as she felt herself being picked up, and a heavy hand struck the back of her head. Everything went black.

Quickly, they tossed them into the back of the van. As they sped off, Sid grinned. "Well done," he said.

 **AN: This is a story I've wanted to do for a while. I'm not sure how long it will be. It was originally going to be a Cal/Rose story. I was interested in how their relationship might go if she never met Jack, and they never sailed on the** _ **Titanic**_ **. But now I wonder if Jack shouldn't be there, at some point. Any thoughts?**


	2. Chapter 2

It was a dank, windowless room; a dim bulb hung from the ceiling. The first thing Rose noticed when she woke up was the floors. They were made of dirt, soft, pack down earth. She was too disoriented to be disgusted. Her mouth was dry, and her head hurt. She raised her hands and realized they were tied at the wrist. It all came back then. She slumped against the wall, fear washing over her. Where were they? And why? Most chilling of all, what was going to happen to them?

Cal groaned next to her. He lay in a heap, his wrists bound as well. Slowly, he raised himself up. He looked around, blinking. "Rose?"

"Yes, it's me." It sounded ridiculous, but she didn't know what else to say.

"What happened?"

"Don't you remember?" she asked.

Cal's brows knitted together, and recognition flashed in his eyes. "We were attacked," he said. "I remember being hit by something. We—We were outside. Where are we now?"

"I don't know."

"Are we alone?" he asked.

"I believe so," Rose said. "I don't hear anything. Do you?"

"No." He examined his bound hands. The knot was thick and well done. "I don't suppose you're free."

She shook her head. "No." She held up her hands. 'We're both helpless, it appears."

"Don't say that." Cal tried to sound encouraging but mostly just sounded annoyed. "There must be a way out of here. Whoever these people are, I doubt they did this without a purpose. They must want something."

"Most likely they want money," Rose said.

"Yes," he agreed. "Most likely."

"I suppose that means we're as good as free."

Cal smiled unconvincingly. "Right. It does."

The silence thickened around them. They sat close enough to touch but didn't. At the other end of the room was a set of stairs leading up to a trap door. Another door looked on the far wall. Rose wondered where it led, if it could be of any use, but she didn't ask. Cal wouldn't know. She glanced at him. His eyes were downcast, and he wore a frown. What was he thinking? Most likely, he was mulling over their situation. Rose wanted to trust him. She wanted to believe he was as capable as he always seemed, but she wasn't sure. This wasn't a board room; it wasn't a gathering of the well-dressed and well-connected. These men, whoever they were, likely wouldn't be impressed by anything Cal had to say.

Rose turned back to the wall. Would _she_ be impressed by him? Had she ever really been impressed by him, or had she just been overwhelmed?

…

Rose's stomach twisted. When had she last eaten? She picked at lunch, leaving most of the food on her plate. She sighed. How long had they been there? Hours? A day? There was no way to mark the passage of time. Heavy footsteps sounded overhead.

She nudged Cal. He was slumped over, asleep. "Wake up," she said. "I think someone's coming."

He jerked up. "What?"

"Listen."

There were more footsteps now. They were coming closer. Voices followed. Rose strained her ears, but she couldn't make out what they were saying. They were men. That much was clear, at least. "Can you hear them?" she asked. Cal shook his head. They waited as the trap door was lifted up. Light fell through the hole in the ceiling. Rose and Cal looked at each other.

Dan appeared first, followed by Sid. "You're awake," Dan said. "Good. Now we can talk."

"We have nothing to talk about," Cal said coldly.

"Oh, I think we do," Sid disagreed. His tone was jovial, but there was a threat beneath the good humor. "For instance, we have to discuss what's going to happen next. How we're going to handle things."

"You're going to be caught," Cal said. "Rest assured, it's only a matter of time before that happens."

Sid's mouth curled up in a lopsided grin. "Is it?"

"Do you honestly think no-one saw you?" Cal replied. "Do you think a search isn't going on for us right now?"

"I'm sure it is," Sid said. "I'm sure every law enforcement official in the state is doing his best to find you, but they won't. We chose this place well."

"What do you want?" Rose asked. Cal shot her a look. Sid's smile widened. His eyes moved across her, and she stiffened. "Is it money?" she went on. "Of course it is. Why wouldn't it be?" She laughed drily, earning another reproving look from Cal. "I hate to disappoint you, whoever you are," she said. "But I don't have any. You'll get nothing for me."

Rose didn't know exactly why she said it. She had to say _something_. Cal's approach wouldn't work. Neither of them knew how to handle a situation like this, but she supposed it wouldn't hurt to throw them off guard a little. Maybe they would even let her go if they thought there wasn't any profit in keeping her. She could find help. Come back for Cal.

Sid's eyes bored into her. She tried to hold his gaze but couldn't. Rose dropped her head, letting her curls cover her face. Or maybe they'd just kill her and be done with it. Maybe she'd made a mistake.

"Sure we will," Sid said. He nodded at Cal. "He'll pay. Won't you? You wouldn't let us do anything to harm your lovely bride-to-be, would you?"

"If you touch her-"

"You're in no position to make threats," Sid said calmly. "I suggest you cooperate with us."

"You-"

"Cal, don't," Rose said.

He stared at her. "Rose-"

"Don't," she said again. "He's right. We'd best do what he says."

Sid nodded approvingly. "Smart _and_ pretty. I like that." Rose shrank under his gaze. Normally, it wouldn't have bothered her. He wasn't the first man to look at her that way, but he _was_ the first to threaten her. Whatever the others were thinking, they wouldn't or couldn't act on it. This man had no restrictions. He could kill them right then and still collect the money. Didn't Cal see that?

"We'll give you some time to think," Sid said.

When they were gone the silence was thicker than before. Rose didn't have to look at Cal to know he was angry. Cold fury radiated from him. Rage at the situation and their captors, but also at her. "You had no right to do that, Rose," he said quietly. He didn't look at her. "Do you know how you made me look? You humiliated me in front of those men. They'll never take me seriously now."

"They didn't take you seriously anyway," she said.

His head jerked toward her. His dark eyes narrowed. "What did you say?" 

"You heard me. Nothing you or I can say will change their opinion. You can't intimidate them. You can't threaten them. They won't do what you want. These men have the upper hand, and no amount of blustering from you is going to change that."

"What makes you think you can speak to me that way?" he demanded. "I was trying to protect you."

"Nothing you say can protect me. We're at their mercy. Our hands are tied. Literally. Can't you see that?"

"I refuse to accept that," Cal said. "You're afraid. It's understandable. I'm afraid, myself." His eyes softened.

"That's good to know," Rose said.

"Why?"

"It means I'm not alone," she said.

"Of course you aren't alone, Rose. I'm right here."

"That isn't the same thing," she said. "You-" She stopped and shook her head.

"What?" he pressed. "Tell me."

"It doesn't matter. I'm too hungry to talk."

"Those goddamned savages," he muttered. "How do they expect us to survive down here without food?"

"Maybe they don't," Rose said wearily.

….

The abduction was reported that night, a few hours before rose and Cal woke up and found themselves in the cellar. No-one saw anything, though an employee at the next house did tell the police she saw a van speeding away earlier that afternoon.

When they failed to come back in from the garden a servant was sent to look for them, but of course, they weren't there. The garden was empty; there was no sign they had even been there. When they failed to turn up for dinner the police were called.

Ruth was beside herself. She paced the length of the drawing room, handkerchief balled up in her fist. Cal's house was being searched. She'd been told to stay away for fear she'd contaminate the scene somehow. Really it was to keep her from going into hysterics if they did find something. The police weren't sure what to expect. With no obvious signs of violence or foul play it was possible the couple had simply gone off somewhere, alone, of their own accord. But when this was suggested to Ruth she denied any such possibility.

"They would never do something like that," she said. "Rose would never agree to it."

Kidnapping was one explanation. There wasn't a note, so they couldn't be sure. Still, men who weren't as wealthy as Cal had been abducted before, and there were always stories about young girls being snatched off the street.

The call came late that night. A detective answered the phone. A raspy voice asked for Cal's father. Nathan gave the phone a skeptical look before taking it. "Yes?" he said.

"Is this Nathan Hockley?"

"It is," he said. "Do you know where my son and his fiancée are?"

"They're safe," the voice said. "And secure."

"What do you want? Is this about money?"

"This is about more than money. Is that all you people ever think about?" the voice spat.

"If you don't want money," Nathan said. "Then what _do_ you want?"

"You'll find out soon." There was a click, and the voice was gone. Nathan turned to the detective behind him. "Well?" he said. "What do you intend to do?"

"Now that we know this is in fact a kidnapping we can proceed," Ryan answered. "Believe me sir, we'll do everything we can to find them."

"You'd better find them," Nathan said. "And find them _alive_. And before I lose too much money." His frowned was etched into his face. Expression concern over the money was easier than expressing concern for Cal. Safer. Losing money was only an inconvenience; losing a song was something he couldn't bring himself to even consider.

…..

Rose curled up on her side facing the wall. Her stomach was in knots. She didn't know how long it had been since she last ate, but she knew it was too long. Hunger gnawed at her. Never had she experienced anything like this. It was unbearable. She'd read about starving people. Was this how they felt? Did some people walk around with this kind of pain every day? She was ashamed of herself for taking food for granted. Even before Cal was there to solve their financial problems Rose assumed there would always be another meal waiting when she needed it. The reality of their plight never quite sank in. How could it? Their daily lives never changed.

She shivered. The cellar seemed to grow colder, in spite of its lack of windows. She guessed it was the dirt floor or the block walls. Maybe the cold leaked in through the ground somehow.

Cal hadn't moved. He glanced at her. "Are you alright?" he asked. "That was a stupid question, wasn't it? Of course you're not."

Rose laughed. "It's a habit, asking that. Isn't it? We ask to be polite."

"I do care how you are," he said.

"I'm sure you do."

"What does that mean?" he said.

"Nothing."

"You meant something, or you wouldn't have said it," he argued. "Do you think I don't care?"

"I'm famished and scared," Rose said. "And cold and to be honest, I'd just like to sleep, or at the very least, lie here in peace."

Cal didn't know what to say. This was the most emotion she'd ever shown. He'd never seen her be anything but charming and polite. He almost believed she wasn't capable of anything else. At times he thought he saw passion in her eyes or heard it in her voice, but it was never directed at him, so he dismissed it.

"I'd offer you my jacket," Cal said. "But I'm afraid I can't get it off."

That earned another laugh from Rose. "At least you're keeping me amused."

"I'm not trying to be funny," he said.

"I know you aren't. That's why it is. You never try to be funny, do you?"

"I do," he said defensively. "Sometimes."

"You aren't very good at it then," Rose said.

Cal realized he'd never heard her laugh at anything he'd said before. She laughed at other people's jokes and stories, at plays and books, but never at anything he said. She only smiled, and it never reached her eyes. Did her smiles ever reach her eyes? Or was it only when he was around?

Did it even matter given their situation? There had to be something more important to think about. Cal tried to push it away, but he couldn't stop looking at her. Even now, she was a mystery.

Rose shivered again. She turned as Cal lay down next to her. "What are you doing?" she asked.

"Trying to keep warm," he replied. "Do you mind this? It's the best way."

"I suppose it is," she said slowly. She turned back to the wall. She felt Cal's breath on her neck. It was odd but not unpleasant. His body pressed against hers, his bound hands on her back. She'd never wanted him this close before, but now there was something comforting about it. She wasn't alone, and she _was_ warmer. For a brief moment Rose wondered what it would be like if their hands weren't tied; she wondered if Cal would hold her, and if he did, what would that be like?

…..

"Wake up," Dan ordered.

Rose opened her eyes and found herself still in the cellar. Cal was sitting up next to her. His black hair was mussed, and his eyes were bleary. "Rose?" he said.

"Yes, it's me," she said reassuringly.

"We're all here," Dan said. He carried a tray with two bowls of oatmeal and two cups of water.

Cal glanced at it. His nose wrinkled in disgust. "I hope that isn't breakfast," he said.

"Indeed it is," Dan replied.

"Be quiet, or we won't get anything," Rose said.

"Smart," Dan said. He set down the tray. "Hold out your hands." A blade appeared, and the rope was cut, first on Rose's wrists and then Cal's. Rose took her bowl and spoon. It was all she could do not to begin scooping the cold oatmeal into her mouth. She didn't want their captor to see her eat, so she waited. Cal stared down into his bowl. The oatmeal was beige; it had no smell, and he suspected, no taste either.

"That's all you're getting," Dan warned. "You'd best eat it while you can." He gave a short laugh as he went up the stairs. The door closed with a loud bang. They listened as something heavy was pushed across it.

Rose held the bowl up to her face, eating ravenously. She didn't care how cold and bland the oatmeal was; at least it was good. The bowl looked clean by the time she finished. She drank the water, barely pausing to breathe between gulps. Cal watched with a mixture of horror and concern. His breakfast remained untouched.

"Aren't you going to eat?" Rose asked.

"You mean eat this? You can't be serious, Rose."

"It's all we have," she reminded him. "You can't tell me you aren't hungry. I could eat three more bowls if I had them."

"You can have mine," Cal offered.

"No, you need it."

"I really can't eat it," he insisted.

"Cal, you have to eat it, no matter how demeaning you may find it. You can't starve yourself because you find the accommodations offered by your abductors less than satisfactory," Rose said. "This is a serious situation. Who knows when they'll give us more food."

"Do you think I don't know how serious things are?"

"You haven't been acting like it," she said.

"Believe me, Rose, I know how terrible this is," Cal said. He met her eyes, and for once his gaze wasn't cold or bored; it wasn't self-assured; it was frightened. His mouth relaxed, and Rose saw a depth in his expression she hadn't thought possible. "Do you want me to tell you I'm afraid?" he asked. "Do you want me to be upset? I can't do that. They'd like to see me afraid." His mouth hardened again. "My reactions are one thing I can still control, in spite of everything."

"And I know how important control is to you," Rose said. "It ranks alongside money."

"What?"

She drew her knees up to her chin and hugged her legs. "It doesn't matter."

"You said it for a reason."

"Eat your breakfast," she said.

Cal studied her closely. Never had she spoken to him in such a manner. Never had they spoken to each other in such a manner. She was almost a different person. Where was the well-behaved girl he was supposed to marry? Sure, Rose had her little whims; she had her comments, but this was different. Cal always felt like she was testing him, like she was trying to see how far she could go before he stopped her. It was amusing, most of the time. He liked her spirit, in small doses, of course. If she were too well-behaved it wouldn't be any fun at all. Passion lived within Rose's heart; it burned as brightly as her curls. Cal was sure if he could just find a way to bring it out more, if he could just make some of it burn for him, their lives would be perfect.

Whatever was happening between them now was not at all what he had in mind.

"Are you sure you don't want mine?" he asked.

"You should eat it."

Cal looked down at the cold, lumpy oatmeal. His hunger receded as his stomach heaved. Eating it was simply impossible. He turned to Rose. She looked so small. Her chin rested on her knees. He was filled with an overwhelming urge to protect her. It wasn't like before. It wasn't about proving himself. Cal only wanted to keep her safe; he wanted the sad, frightened look out of her eyes. The Rose he knew, the Rose he secretly loved best, wouldn't curl into herself and give up so easily.

But what could he do? She maintained a distance from him even under the best of circumstances. Now a wall appeared to have gone up between them, one that was too high to climb. Cal wondered if he was the problem, but quickly dismissed the thought. He was trying his best, wasn't he? Still, he couldn't shake the feeling _someone_ could reach her. Somewhere was a person capable of making her smile even in the midst of all this. It just wasn't him.

"Why don't we share it?" he offered.

"You don't share," Rose said.

Cal put her spoon in the bowl. "Let's try."

"Are you serious?"

"I don't know what else to do," he said.

"That's good to hear," she said. "I mean it."

They ate quickly, without speaking.


	3. Chapter 3

The other door led to a lavatory. It was dimly lit and crude; the water only came out cold, and the bar of soap next to the sink was cheap and smelled like antiseptic, but at least they could wash. They had facilities. It was more than Rose expected, though still less than Cal was willing to accept. He stood at the top of the stairs, banging his fist on the trap door. "I demand you let us out!" he yelled. "This treatment is outrageous! It's—It's inhumane! We aren't animals!"

"Cal!" Rose cried. He ignored her. She grabbed his arm. "Cal, stop!"

He stared at her. "What are you doing?"

"I'm getting a headache," she replied. "Please, stop."

"I'm trying to—"

"It won't do any good," she said. "They aren't listening. They probably can't even hear us, and if they can, they don't care."

"Well, they should care," Cal said. Arrogance thickened his voice. "We can't be treated this way." He jerked his arm out of her grasp. "We aren't—" He was cut off by Rose's laughter. She couldn't help herself. It was all so absurd.

"You still don't understand, do you?" she said. "We're here against our will, for some reason they've dreamed up. We aren't guests. This isn't a hotel. We can't change out rooms or leave if we don't like the accommodations. Cal, we're _trapped_ here."

"It's not like you to give in so easily," he said.

"Who said you know what I'm like?" she replied quietly.

His voice was sharp. "What?"

"Nothing," Rose said. "It's not important. Look, I'm not accepting this. I'm not happy about being here. I just don't see how screaming and bruising my hands is going to change anything."

"I have to do _something_ ," Cal said. "I can't sit by and wait to see what happens next." His dark eyes flashed.

"This time you may have to."

….

"Did you read that somewhere?" he asked.

Rose shook her head. "No."

"Well, then how do you know?" Cal said.

"You can see it," Rose said. She laid her arm against her foot. "There it is. They match."

Cal eyed his forearm. "I don't believe it."

"That's because I said it and not you."

His tone was sharp again. "What?"

"Nothing," Rose said, shaking her head. "It's not important."

"You've been doing that a lot."

"I'm surprised you noticed," she said.

"What does that mean?"

Rose stood up. Brushing off her skirt, she said, "I need a walk. It's no good sitting still."

"Where's there to go?" Cal said dismissively.

"Over there. At least it's exercise."

"I can't catch your optimism," he said.

"I wouldn't call it optimism," she replied.

They still weren't sure how long they'd been down there. At some point they'd fallen asleep again, but no more food had been brought down. They were both getting hungry, though they tried to ignore it. Rose hugged herself and shivered. It seemed to be getting colder.

"Here," Cal said, draping his jacket across her shoulders. She gave him a curious look. "Aren't you cold?" he said.

"Yes, I am. Thank you," she said.

There was an awkward silence as they both searched for what to say next. Cal's hands rested on her arms. It occurred to Rose they were physically closer now than ever before. Normally, she would have moved away from his touch, but there was something reassuring about it. Whatever their problems in the outside world, at least she could trust him here. In a way, that made her feel worse. Did it really take a life threatening situation to make him trustworthy?

"Of course," Cal said. His lips moved, as if he wanted to say more, but he didn't.

Rose put her arms through the sleeves and drew the jacket around her. It smelled faintly of him.

…..

"I wasn't gonna touch her," Sid said.

"Sure looked like it," Dan said. "And that's not part of the plan. We didn't agree to that."

"Maybe I should go down with Dan next time," John suggested. "Avoid the problem."

"He'd recognize you," Sid argued. "No way."

"Then you gotta stop looking at the girl like she's a steak, and you're starving," Dan said.

"Why?" Sid asked. "If it makes them nervous, so much the better. He needs to be nervous for a change."

"It's not right," John said. "And aren't you the one who did all that talking about our lofty goals? Wasn't this supposed to be a revolutionary enterprise?"

"So I did," Sid agreed. "And that reminds me. Time for another call."

"Are you making the demands this time?" Dan asked.

"Next time," Sid said. "When they're all good and scared."

…..

The house swarmed with detectives. They were posted at every phone. Nathan paced in his office. His wife, Marianne, refused to leave her room. She wasn't Cal's mother; in fact, she'd never shown much interest in that role or in him, but she did have a well-developed sense of the dramatic. Ruth sat in the drawing room alone. Newspapers were spread across the table. She'd read them all; they offered nothing new. Her gaze kept returning to a framed photo of Rose. It had been taken at the engagement party. The photographer caught her off-guard. She was looking away from the camera, laughter still on her lips. It was nothing like the portrait sent to the newspapers, but it was the one Cal inexplicably chose. He'd made a point of asking for it.

She jumped when the phone rang. A detective answered. He held his hand over the receiver. Ruth twisted her hands together. What was happening now?

…

They were startled by the door opening. Dan and Sid hurried down the stairs. Before she could speak, Dan grabbed Rose, pinning her arms at her sides. A cloth was placed over her eyes and tied. "What do you think you're doing?" Cal yelled, jumping to his feet. He moved toward them. "Let go of her!"

Coolly, Sid produced a gun from his pocket. "I wouldn't," he said warningly.

Rose heard it click. Her palms began to sweat. Her stomach was in knots. What did they want now? She tried not to think of the possibilities.

"Rose," Cal said. His voice was muddled. She couldn't read it.

"Don't, Cal," Rose said. She felt herself being pulled up the stairs. Her heart raced. "Cal!"

He watched the door close behind them. There was the sound of something being pushed across it, and then, silence. He stared at the outline on the ceiling. Where were they taking her? Anger coursed through him, thawing his fear. Cal rushed at the door, screaming. He pounded the wood with his fists, heedless of the dark bruises forming or the torn skin on his knuckles. "Rose!" he bellowed. "Bring her back! Rose!"

As she'd pointed out before, it was no use.

….

The phone receiver was shoved at her. "Talk," Sid ordered.

Rose heard Nathan on the other end. "Are you there?" he asked. "Cal? Is it you?" He couldn't hide the fear in his voice. She wondered why they'd brought her to the phone. She wasn't the one he wanted to speak to; she doubted he even cared what happened to her. Where was her mother? Was she listening as well?

Rose's voice cracked. "It's me," she said. "Rose. Cal's here."

"Rose? He's with you?"

"Yes," she said. "We're alright."

"Where are you?" Nathan demanded.

"I don't know. I—"

"Rose?" Ruth's voice startled them.

"Mother?" Rose said. "You-"

The phone was yanked away before any more could be said. "That's enough," Sid said. Into the phone he said, "You've spoken to one of them. As promised. We'll be in touch." He hung up.

"What's going on?" Rose asked. "What are you planning?"

Dan pushed her back toward the trap door. She dug her heels in, slowing their pace. "Tell me!" she cried. "You can at least do that!"

She heard the creak of the door opening. "We don't have to tell you anything," Sid said coldly. She felt herself being pushed forward; her heart skipped a beat as she fell through the air. She put out her hands to catch herself, sure she was about to tumble down the stairs. She braced herself for the pain as the door slammed shut, but to her astonishment, she landed in Cal's arms.

Her face hit his chest. His arms closed around her, and she breathed in the smell of him. It was just like his jacket, only stronger. She felt his heart beating. He was solid but softer than she expected; he felt like someone you could land on safely.

Cal removed the blindfold but didn't let her go. "Are you alright?" he asked. His eyes roamed over her. "What happened? Did they hurt you?"

"I'm fine. I—"

"I'll kill them," he said, not hearing her. His eyes were back on the door.

"Cal, you—"

"If you laid a hand on you, Rose, I'll—"

"Cal."

"I mean it," he said. "I won't—"

"Cal!" she said impatiently. He looked at her, eyes widening slightly. "I'm alright," she said. "You caught me."

"What did they want?"

"They had me speak to your father on the telephone," she answered. "I think my mother was there too. She must be worried sick. Both of them must be." Without intending to, she drew closer to him.

He smoothed her curls. "I'm sure they're fine," he said, trying to sound reassuring. He mostly just sounded uncomfortable. "They're doing everything they can to find us. We won't be here much longer."

"We don't know that for sure," Rose said.

"I know it," Cal said firmly. "And you should too." His eyes flashed with confidence. He lay his knuckles against her cheek. His gaze found hers. Rose had always thought of his eyes as a deep brown, almost black, but now she saw flecks of gold in them. His hand felt nice against her skin. Warm. The gentleness in his touch startled her. She couldn't remember him ever touching her this way. Cal had never hurt her, but there had always been an impatience in his touch. It was almost probing, as though he were searching for something in her but never finding it. Or maybe, he was expecting something from her.

That made a certain sense. He expected her to be soft and yielding, and when she wasn't, when she held herself at a distance, he pulled her closer, gripping tighter. As if that would change anything.

"It's perfectly natural for us to be afraid," Cal said. "But rose, you must remember who we are. People like us don't die this way. We will survive this, one way or another."

And just like that, the moment was over. "I wish I had your arrogance," Rose said. "But it seems to me who we are—or rather, who _you_ are, is what got us here. Forgive me if I don't quite believe your name is enough to save us." She moved to continue down the stairs. "Thank you for catching me," she added.

"Of course," Cal said. He held himself stiffly now, his former posture erased, as if it never happened.

…..

"I don't like this," John said. "Why haven't we asked for a ransom yet? What are we waiting for?"

"This isn't just about money," Sid said.

"Isn't it?" John said.

"No, it's about making a change," Sid replied. "It's about dignity. We'll get money, but first, we'll make them feel the way we do, the way they make people feel every day. Afraid. Hopeless. Dependent."

"I'm just worried," John said. "I can't stay out here much longer. My wife'll suspect something, and I have to find a new job soon."

"Why don't you take part of the money we found in his wallet?" Dan suggested. "Tell her you found a job up here, a temporary one."

"I guess that could work," John said.

"Sure it will," Dan said. He handed him five twenties.

John shook his head. "Hard to believe someone carries around that much cash every day."

"It's nothing to him," Sid said. His nose wrinkled in disgust. "Our families could live for years on what he throws away in week."

"They wouldn't have anything without people like us," Dan said. "What bothers me most if they don't appreciate that. We aren't even people to them, just cogs in a machine. If something happens to one they just get another. All I want is a fair chance, a chance at a decent life, a wage I can life on and to be treated with a little respect. Don't we deserve that?"

"We do," John agreed.

"Look guys, I know this seems extreme," Sid said. "And it's hard now. But you have to go to extremes to make an impact. We aren't going to hurt them."

"For sure?" John said.

"Of course we aren't," Sid said. "We're trying to make change, not just collect money. We might scare them, but-" He held up the gun. 'This is empty. When they agree to our demands, and we see them in action, then we'll let them go."

"What if the old man won't agree?" Dana sked.

"He will," Sid replied. "They don't know the gun's empty."

…..

Food was brought down. Water and oatmeal. This time they were given slices of bread. "I think they're feeding us once a day," Rose said. "Which makes this our second day here. The third since it happened." Knowing this didn't make her feel any better, and knowing they were likely to get only one paltry meal each day made her even hungrier. She tried to eat slowly, but the bowl was empty before she knew it. She tore the bread into strips and ate it in small bites.

Cal picked at his food. "They must be trying to torture us," he said.

"It's possible."

"That's not funny," he said.

"I wasn't trying to be funny," Rose said. "I'm just being realistic. They're obviously not interested in our comfort."

"Why are you so calm?" he demanded.

"What do you mean?"

"You say you're afraid, but you act so detached. I can hardly tell you feel anything sometimes."

"I've had a lot of experience with detachment," she replied. "It's a good way to cope with an unbearable situation. That doesn't mean I don't realize the gravity of this one. I don't want to die here. I wasn't so sure before, but-" Rose cut herself off. "You should eat that. I doubt it tastes any better after it sits for a while."

"Nothing can make this any worse," Cal said. He stirred the lumpy oatmeal. "What did you mean just now?"

"Nothing. Forget I said anything."

"You meant something," he persisted. "What was that about unbearable situations and not wanting to live? What in _your_ life could be so bad?" he scoffed.

"Nothing you would understand."

"What does _that_ mean?" he said. "Do you think I'm incapable of comprehending the depth of your feelings?"

"I'd rather not discuss this," Rose said.

"Tell me!"

" _No_." She turned away from him.

"Rose, I—"

"You can't have everything you want," she snapped.

She'd told him too much already. No good could come of it. She was jeopardizing her future—assuming she had one, of course-and for what? To share her feelings with him? What would that accomplish? It wouldn't change anything. Cal didn't care; he wouldn't understand. No-one would. She might as well have a heart-to-heart with their abductors.

Well, maybe someone, somewhere would understand, but thinking about that was a waste of time.

It was the situation. It was making Rose bolder than she should be. She'd made little comments in the past but nothing like this. Her remarks had always been sarcastic, the sort of thing to annoy her mother and Cal, but never serious enough to elicit more than reproachful look or reply, as if she were a misbehaving child.

With the threat of death hanging over her head, Rose was finding it increasingly difficult to care about anything, let alone making sure Cal was in a good temper. It was hard to imagine life with him at all anymore. It had never been something she liked picturing, but now she wondered if, in spite of everything, marrying him would just be another way of giving up.

….

"Is it bigger than a bread box?" Rose asked.

"No."

"Is it smaller than bread box?" she asked.

"No."

"Cal, don't tell me it's a bread box," she said.

"Yes," he replied. "How did you guess so quickly?"

"You already chose that," she said. "Pick something else. I know creativity is hard for you, but try it."

"There's no need to insult me. I can't think of anything else," Cal grumbled. "And I have plenty of creativity," he added, an arrogant lilt in his voice.

"Sure you do. This isn't a hard game either way."

"We only have these walls to stare at," he said. "Just grey blocks and dirt. How can I think here?"

"It doesn't look so different from your house."

"Excuse me? What does that mean?" he said.

"Just that you should be used to dull surroundings," she replied.

"I had that house professionally decorated," he replied.

"Then you wasted your money," Rose said. "It's a good thing you have so much to throw away."

Cal stared at her. Who was this snarky, surly girl? Where was the girl he knew? Or had she been this way all along, and he simply never noticed? Was the prim outer shell hiding more than just unknown passions? He was vaguely aware of her intelligence. She read far too much and mostly, he suspected, inappropriate materials, but now he wondered at the depth of her mind. What was she thinking? What were these things she almost but wasn't quite telling him? And did he actually prefer her this way?

Cal remembered the photo he kept on his desk, the one taken without her knowing. She reminded him more and more of that photo now. She wasn't happy, but at times there was the same lack of self-consciousness. There was still distance between them, but Rose seemed freer and less like she was playing a role she not only didn't enjoy but also didn't quite fit.

What must that be like? Cal couldn't remember ever being uncomfortable with his place in life. He was, as they say, to the manor born.

"I didn't know you disliked it," he said. His face was impassive.

"I didn't tell you."

"Why not?" he asked.

"Why bother?" she said.

"You could change it. Isn't that something wives do?"

"I suppose some do," Rose said. "I doubt we would agree."

"I'd let you," Cal said. "It doesn't matter to me."

"You'd only let me because you have no taste. And it may never happen."

"Don't talk that way, Rose," he said sharply. His tone softened. "Please, don't."

"I'm sorry. Let's assume it will," Rose said. It was more of an encouraging remark than an indication of her desires. At least it was a future. There was something in that. She burrowed into his jacket. "It's your turn again," she said. "Think of something else."

"Are you cold?" he asked.

"Aren't you?"

"Yes," he said. He moved closer. Their bodies touched. She glanced at him but didn't move away.


	4. Chapter 4

Cal's arm was looped around her. He pressed against her. His cheek rested on her hair. They hadn't started out this way; as they slept, they came closer together. The chill was worse. Rose shivered in her sleep, and instinctively, he heled her tighter. Awake, they never would have allowed themselves this kind of intimacy, but asleep, it was easy. There were no walls, no suspicions or distrust between them. They were just two people finding comfort.

Cal woke up first. He looked around, still shocked to find himself in the cellar. His eyes landed on Rose. He moved to wake her but stopped. Why bother? What was there to wake up for? Today, if in fact it was day, would be another endless series of empty hours. No sense starting before they had to. He closed his eyes. The emptiness pressed down on him, and Cal struggled for breath. Was this powerlessness? He'd never felt anything like it. The whole world was spinning out of control, and he could do nothing to stop it. Panic welled up inside him.

Cal held his breath, forcing it back to normal. He couldn't give in. He couldn't let himself be defeated. There had to be some way to regain control.

…..

"There's raisins in the bread," Rose said. "I can't imagine how that happened." She chewed thoughtfully. "It almost has flavor."

"I don't like raisins," Cal replied.

"Of course you don't."

"Do you want my bread?" he asked.

"You should eat it."

"I won't," he said, holding it out.

"This is hardly the time to cling to preferences," she said. She took the bread.

"We have to cling to something."

"There's always hope," she said. He gave her a skeptical look. "You don't rely on that much, do you?" she added.

"I don't think I've ever needed it."

"No, you wouldn't," Rose said. "I should've known."

The silence was awkward. Cal wanted to defend himself against her remarks, but what was there to say? Any protest would sound hollow. In most regards, he'd led a charmed life. Whatever his complaints, they hardly compared to most people's. Even he could admit that. Still, it had never stopped Cal from believing himself to be entitled to those things. Why didn't Rose believe that as well? Why did it seem as if she didn't quite believe it of herself either?

"I, um-" Cal searched for something to say.

"Is it all dried fruits or just raisins?" she asked.

"All, I guess. I don't like the texture. It's waxy."

"I don't like coconut," she said.

"Really?"

"It smells wonderful, but when you chew it-" She made a face. "I've never been able to stand it."

"Well. We're learning," he said.

"You could call it that," Rose agreed. "It feels rather like strangers making painful small talk as they get acquainted."

"Is that what you think we are?"

"Aren't we?" she said. "I know your name, and you know mine, but beyond that…" She shrugged. "I doubt we could answer questions about one another."

"You like dancing," Cal said.

"Yes. So do you."

"You like books," he said. "You spend a lot of time reading."

"And you don't."

"I read," he said.

"You read newspapers and stock reports," she said.

"Those are useful."

"So it literature," she said.

"Maybe. You like art."

"And you don't," she said. "Or at least, you don't have any taste in art."

"I've never had my tastes so insulted," Cal said. He almost sounded like he was going to laugh.

"You know, I've wondered what was going on in your head, but that's not quite what I expected."

"What did you expect?" Rose asked.

"I don't know."

"You could've asked me," she pointed out.

"Would you have answered truthfully?"

"Probably not," she admitted. "Would you have wanted the truth?"

"Probably not," Cal said.

….

The police found the van abandoned in a small town just outside Philadelphia. It was empty. They went over every inch of it but found nothing useful. They combed the area, but again found nothing. Percy, the lead detective, confided in another officer, "They could be anywhere."

"Sir, you don't mean that."

"I'm not sure this wasn't left here to throw us off," Percy replied. "They may have left the state, or they may just be a few town over. But in what direction?" He sighed. This case was getting worse by the hour. They had no solid leads, and for all he knew the couple was already dead. There had been two phone calls, but neither contained a ransom demand. This wasn't a typical abduction. It was well-planned, probably by a group. But why? Money didn't seem to be the goal, and if not money, then what?

Detective Summers leaned through the doorway. "Sir, we've just received word Hockley dismissed a foreman and roughly a third of the mill workers a couple weeks ago."

"Why are we just not hearing about this?"

"Apparently it was deemed irrelevant," Summers replied. "I sent some men down to talk to the mill staff."

"Of course it's relevant," Percy said, snatching his hat from the rack. "He made enemies."

…

Beth studied him apprehensively. "What did you say you were investigating?" she asked.

"A kidnapping, Mrs. Collins. Of your husband's former employer. I understand he was let go recently?" Percy sat casually, notebook in hand.

"Yes," she said. "It was a terrible, unfortunate business. John wasn't involved in what happened. He was a foreman, had been for years. He reported what was going on as soon as he found out."

"Yes, I've spoken to several others who say the same thing," Percy replied.

"That's why it was such a shock when he was fired. He'd done nothing wrong."

"You're quite certain he wasn't involved in the union activities?" Percy asked.

"John wouldn't get involved in something like that. He may have certain sympathies, but he knows the risks. He wouldn't jeopardize his job and his family like that."

"I'm sure you're right," Percy said. "Where is he? May I speak with him?"

"He has a new job," Beth said. "Up in Blair."

"Oh, really? That's a bit far away, isn't it?"

"It's only temporary," she said. "He was lucky to find it so quickly."

"Do you have an address or telephone number where I might reach him? This is just a routine interview," he said. "Your husband is under no suspicion. I just want to clear up a few matters."

"I don't have a telephone number," Beth said. "We don't have one. But I do have an address for the company. You just missed him, actually. He left this morning." She copied the address onto a sheet of paper and handed it to him. "You'll find him there."

"Thank you," Percy said. "You've been very helpful."

…..

"I don't like blueberries," Rose said. She sat against the wall, hands in her lap.

"Neither do I."

"Really?" she said. "I guess there is something we have in common."

"I told you," Cal said.

"That's rather minor though, don't you think?"

"It's a start," he said.

"Maybe."

"You don't have to have anything in common with me, do you?" he said.

"I didn't say that."

"You don't have to."

"I don't know," Rose said. "Maybe I don't."

"Am I so terrible?"

"You aren't my favorite person," she said evenly.

Cal leaned back, taking in her words. "Have I done something?" he asked.

"It isn't any one thing. Cal, we're just-You-" Rose struggled to explain.

"What? I thought I'd behaved correctly," he said. "I've been -"

"You've been polite and courteous," she said. "It's difficult to reproach you. You've followed the rules. All the girls I know are jealous. They wish they were marrying you."

"I know," Cal said, a hint of smugness in his voice. "So, what's the problem?"

Rose looked at him and sighed. "That. What you just did. Must you think so much of yourself all the time?"

"I wasn't aware I did," he said defensively.

"You must know."

"If I do, is that so wrong?" he asked. "I have a lot to be proud of. You admitted I'm more than eligible."

"Whatever attractive qualities you possess are lost in the shadow of your arrogance. Among other things."

"What other things?" he said.

"Cal, just let it go," she said.

"But I want to know."

"Do you really?" Rose asked. "We may die here. Do you want to die knowing what I truly think of you? Why not let the image remain? The two of us as a perfect couple."

"I thought it was real," Cal replied.

"How could you? Honestly, how could you think-" Rose stopped herself. "You never saw. I never let you see," she said quietly. "In some ways, it's my fault."

"How is it your fault?"

"I let you think I was happy," she said. "I let everyone think I'm happy, all the time, not just you."

"I don't want you to be unhappy, Rose."

"You sound like you mean that," she said.

"I do," Cal said. He moved so he was sitting next to her. "I care about you. I care about you a great deal. Ever since the first time I saw you, I haven't been able to get you out of my mind. I had to meet you. I had to know everything about you."

"Do you think you know everything about me?"

"No," he said. "But I'd like to. If you'll let me." His hand touched hers.

"You almost sound like you mean that," she said.

"Rose, don't you trust me at all?"

"Actually, I do," she said. "This ordeal…I trust you more than I ever thought I would."

"I'm not sure that's saying much." Cal's mouth turned up slightly. "Especially considering I'm the only one here you know doesn't intend to hurt you."

"Don't you think it's bizarre two people who hardly know each other could be engaged?" Rose asked. "If this were a passionate, whirlwind love affair, it might make sense, but it's not."

"Is that what you want?"

"Does it matter?" she said. " _This_ is what I have."

"You could've said no," he pointed out.

Rose gave him a look. "How could I? Even without knowing what's at stake, saying no was impossible. You make it impossible."

Emotions tumbled around inside him. Under any other circumstances, Cal would have been angry, furious even, but he wasn't. There was some anger, but mostly he was hurt. "I don't know how I could misjudge things so much," he said.

…..

Rose crossed and uncrossed her arms. "I'm sorry," she said. She wasn't entirely sure she should be; all she'd done was be honest, but the longer she watched Cal stare at the wall, his dark eyes heavy-eyes she now knew had flecks of gold in them-and filled with something she didn't recognize as either fear or anger, the worse she felt. Intentionally hurting people wasn't in Rose's nature. Not even Cal.

He glanced at her. "I may have been a little harsh," she added. "I just wanted you to understand how I feel."

"I understand," he said petulantly.

"I've been holding this in for so long," Rose went on. "I didn't think I'd ever say any of it, and with what's happening, I can't seem to hold back."

"I'm not angry," Cal said. "If that's what you're worried about."

"I wasn't."

"I've never hurt you," he said "I've never knowingly hurt you," he added, correcting himself.

"I didn't say you had."

"I wouldn't do that," he said. And yet, he wasn't sure. He rarely let his emotions overtake him. There was rarely a situation that couldn't be resolved quickly and quietly. Money smoothed over most things. Charm helped. Good looks and good manners. The promise of a coveted invitation or a helpful word put in to the right person. Cal had people to handle whatever he couldn't or didn't want to deal with. He paid them all to keep his life peaceful.

But Cal also knew what he was capable of. He knew the depth and ferocity of his emotions. He'd always been led by his desires. It was no different with Rose. What might happen if something threatened his getting what he wanted? What if someone got in his way? This situation didn't count. Their captors weren't trying to take Rose, at least, not in that sense. Cal knew how he'd respond to them. He already had. With anger. It was the simplest way. It blotted out all his other feelings.

If someone else came along, someone Rose preferred, however, there was no way of knowing what he'd do. Would it be the cold, detached approach he took with business, or would it be a white hot fury?

Cal looked over at Rose, and the only thing he knew for certain was he didn't want to hurt her. He didn't want to lose her either, but now the reasons were different.

"I probably wouldn't have taken no for an answer," Cal said. "I usually don't."

"That doesn't surprise me," Rose said.

"You're used to getting what you want too. We're both spoiled," he said.

"It isn't quite the same. I can't demand the world the way you can. It won't bend to me."

"Won't it?" he said.

She shook her head. "I may have some power, but mostly it comes from other people. My father. You. My name alone means nothing. Even if the money wasn't gone, it wouldn't be mine. I doubt it ever would be." She spoke softly, with no anger or coldness in her voice, only a weariness. "I don't want to live through other people," she said. "Their money, their names, their reputations. I want my own life."

"What about being married?" Cal asked. "It doesn't work that way."

"Why can't it? Why must my selfhood be swallowed by the man I love?"

"Love isn't marriage," he pointed out.

"I'm not interested in marriage then," she replied. "Not without love. I-I can't live that way. I thought I could."

"Rose, I want to marry you."

"Why?" she asked.

"I don't want to be without you."

…..

Rose shivered. She lay curled in a ball, arms wrapped around herself. Cal's jacket wasn't big enough to serve as a blanket, but it was all she had. He lay nearby, jaw clenched against the cold They'd been pretending to sleep for hours. After his declaration the conversation waned until finally, it faded out completely. Rose didn't know how to answer him. What was there to say? She felt empty. Purged. Everything she wanted to tell him had been told. She hadn't expected his response. He was so calm it was almost alarming.

Rose rolled over. She squeezed her eyes shut, begging for sleep, but it refused to come. She opened them. They faced each other, cold and tired, wrung out by everything that had happened. Cal looked so open. Without stopping to think, Rose moved closer to him. They were almost touching. She saw surprise in his eyes. "Aren't you cold?" she said.

"Freezing."

"We should stay close," she said. "We'll be warmer."

His eyes didn't leave her face as he put a hand on her waist. Rose felt its warmth through her clothes. He always seemed so cold; it was hard to imagine his touch could feel this warm. It was hard to imagine a person beneath his impeccable exterior. As she gazed at him, Rose didn't want to tell anything more about herself; she wanted to ask; she wanted to know what went on in his mind, who he was, really. The urge was startling.

Cal saw something flicker in her eyes. "I'm sorry," he said, lifting his hand. "I didn't mean-"

"No, it's fine," Rose said. She moved closer. There was barely any room between them now. Cal let his hand rest on her waist for a moment before pulling her to him. His arm curled around her; their bodies pressed together. Rose felt him breathing. He fought to keep from shivering.

"Here," she said, draping the jacket over him.

"No. You keep it."

"We'll share," she said.

It barely covered both of them, but it was better than nothing. Rose's head rested against his chest. His arms were tight around her, but his grip wasn't hard. She could move away, if she chose. She put an arm around him. He wasn't easy to hold. He was so much bigger than she was. Rose wasn't sure why she was trying, though she told herself it was to keep warm. It was partly true, but there was more going on. They both knew it.

Cal's lips brushed her hair. He paused, waiting for her to pull away, but she didn't. He kissed her, breathing in her scent. The top of her head smelled different from the rest of her. He didn't know how to describe it. "I like the way your head smells," he said, before he could stop himself.

"What? You do? My hair must smell awful," Rose said.

"It doesn't. You smell nice."

She hugged him tighter and closed her eyes. "So do you."

 **AN: Thanks to everyone who's been reading and following my stories! I promise I will start posting regular updates soon! I've been incredibly busy the past month or so, moving, job hunting, and the like.**


	5. Chapter 5

Percy stepped out onto the street. "Nothing," he said. "He rented the room, paid upfront, and apparently never came back."

"What do you think it means?" Summers asked.

"Could mean anything. Could be he's having an affair. Maybe he's staying with a woman," Percy said. "Maybe he didn't actually find a new job, and that story was just to keep his wife from worrying."

"What do you think?"

"Me?" Percy said. "I have a feeling it's neither of those. I may be wrong, but I'm usually not." He rocked back on his heels and looked around. "There were at least three men on the job," he went on. "It's no coincidence this happened right after Hockley fired all those workers, our guy included. I just-I'm sure he's involved."

"Certainly a lohical guess," Summers said. "He's got motive. We know he lied about where he is."

"But that's still not enough. We can't prove anything. We don't know where he is."

"You think it's worthwhile to keep a man on the building?" Summers asked.

Percy shook his head. "No. I doubt he comes back here. I'd bet, though, wherever he is, that's where our victims are."

...

"It's nothing," Rose said. "I'm probably just hungry." She put her head against her knees. The pain between her eyes was sharp. She'd woken up with it. That was at least an hour ago, probably longer. Her stomach twisted. So far, there was no sign of that day's meal. Rose tried not to wonder if they'd been abandoned.

"This is _completely_ unacceptable!" Cal said angrily.

She laughed weakly. "Such strong words."

"It is," he said. 'They can't do this. They have no right."

"They can do whatever they want."

But he wasn't listening. Cal pounded the trap door with both fists. "I demand you open this door!" he yelled. Rose covered her ears. "You can't ignore us down here!"

He gave up when his arms were tired "How can they pretend not to hear that?" he said, gasping for breath. "It would drive anyone crazy. What do you think?" He turned toward her. "Rose?" His eyes widened. "Rose!"

She was curled up, her head resting on her knees, hands over her ears. Her eyes were closed. Cal dropped to his knees. "Rose?" he said gently. He touched her shoulder. "What's wrong?"

"All your shouting," she said. "And your impressive display of virility against the door."

"I was trying to get their attention."

"I know," she said. "Cal, did it ever occur to you, maybe they've left? They aren't responding because they've gone and left us down here to die?" She hadn't intended to say it. The words came out before she could stop them.

"You can't be serious," Cal said.

"It's possible."

"What happened to not giving up?" he asked.

"I haven't. I'm just saying, that's one explanation. It's not the one I'm hoping for, but it's a possibility."

"No, it isn't," he said firmly. "The two of us dying down here is not a possibility. Rose, do you understand?" He brushed her hair awa from her face. "You have to trust me," he said. "Try to trust me, Rose. We have to help each other."

"That hardly sounds like you."

"I respond appropriately in all situations," he said. "It's one of my strengths. I always find a way."

Rose chuckled. "Arrogance."

"I'll accept that. You smiled."

"I did not," she said.

"It was faint, but I saw it. See, right there," Cal said. "Right at the corner of your mouth." He grinned. "You have the loveliest smile."

"Is this really the time for flattery?"

"It might be the perfect time," he replied. "If that's what I was trying to do."

"Weren't you?" she said.

"I was simply being honest."

Rose studied his face for a moment. "Thank you. That may be one of the nicest things you've ever said to me."

"I frequently say nice things to you."

"Insincere flattery and flirting," she replied. "I believe you really meant the comment about my smile."

"Can I help with your headache?"

"I don't see how," she said.

Cal moved so he was sitting against the wall, legs straight out in front of him. "Come here," he said.

She gave him a dubious look. "Why?"

He held out his arms. "Just come here. I'm not going to hurt you, Rose." Still doubtful, she went over to him. "Lay your head here," he said. "Trust me." He pressed his thumbs to the base of her neck. "How does that feel?"

"Surprisingly good," Rose said.

Cal moved his hands. "Now?" He pressed down a little more. "Or is that better?"

"That one." She let out a breath. "How do you know this? What are you doing?"

"Pressure points. I learned about this in college. I shared rooms with a medical student. He showed me."

"He did a fine job," she said.

"I haven't gotten much use out of my skills. I'm glad I still remember."

"So am I," she said gratefully.

"I'm rather surprised you're letting me do this."

"I'm surprised you offered," she replied.

"You were in pain," Cal pointed out.

"That doesn't affect you," Rose countered.

"I don't want to watch you suffer," he said. "I'm not-I have faults, but I'm not that cold. Do you really think I am?"

"I don't know what I think," Rose said. "Healing isn't something I associate with you. You aren't a creator."

"I'm not an artist, you mean."

"No," she said. "You aren't."

"Would you like me better if I were?"

"Talent doesn't make someone a good person. It doesn't even make them interesting, necessarily," she said.

"But you'd still rather marry an artist," he said.

"I want to marry someone with _depth_ ," Rose answered. "Someone I could never get tired of talking with."

"We can talk."

"You don't have to win me over, Cal," she said. "I've already agreed to marry you."

"Rose, can't we..." Cal searched for the right words. "Be friends? Here and now, if nowhere else?"

"Why does it matter to you if we are?"

"Because here and now, we only have each other," he said.

"And it takes something like this to bring down all the walls," she said thoughtfully. "You wouldn't turn on me if it meant suvival? Or escape?"

"No. No, of course I wouldn't." He looked appalled, but deep down, he wondered if that wasn't exactly what he would do, under the right circumstances.

"I want to trust you," Rose said. "Sometimes I do. Right now, for instance."

Ca; touched her cheek with his fingertips. Before he could stop himself, he bent down and kissed her. His lips pressed gently against hers; his palm flattened on her cheek. Rose put her hand over his. He waited for her to stop him, but she didn't. Her mouth opened slightly, and his followed. Neither of them knew what would've happened next if the trapdoor hadn't flung open. They jerked apart, startled, and stared at one another. "Rose," Cal began. She shushed him.

Dan appeared on the stairs, bowls in hand.

"Finally," Cal snapped.

Rose sat up, shaking her hair. He reached for her but stopped. Cal put his hands down awkwardly. She pretended not to notice. Dan said nothing as he handed her the bowls.

"No bread?" Cal said.

Dan was already halfway up the stairs. He didn't answer. "He could at least say _something_ ," Cal grumbled. The door closed with a _bang_.

"Just be grateful we have this," Rose said.

"How could I possibly be grateful for _this_? It's more water than oatmeal. I don't know why they bother."

"They want us alive," she said.

"Well, I can't eat it, and I won't." He pushed his bowl away with a disgusted shake of his head.

"Cal, you have to eat it."

"You can have mine," Cal said.

Her tone was reproachful. "Cal."

"Just take it,' he said. "That pitiful excuse for food isn't enough to fill me up anyway."

"But it's enough for me?" she said.

"I'd rather you have it than no-one," he replied.

"How kind."

They didn't look at each other. Nothing they'd said was what they wanted to say. Rose touched her lip. She felt Cal's mouth pressed against hers. Their previous kisses has been brief, dry pecks really; it was all she would allow, and all he tried for. She knew he wanted more; that was obvious. However, he wasn't willing to just take it; he wanted her to _want_ him. And to her amazement, Rose did want him, or his kiss at least. It was nice.

Cal licked his upper lip and imagined he tasted Rose. Finally, what he'd been waiting for, and it only took a life threatening situation to get them there. It was almost funny. He snuck a glance at her. How could she go on as if nothing happened? Did her silence mean it didn't matter to her? Or was she as hesitant to mention it as he was?

...

"I've never enjoyed horseback riding," Cal said. "What's the point?"

"Some people enjoy being outdoors. The feel of being on the horse, galloping. There's something liberating about it," Rose replied. "And horses are such lovely, gentle animals."

"You would think so."

"What does that mean?" she asked, perturbed.

"Simply that it sounds like you. It isn't bad."

"Tell me something you do like," she said. "Something new."

"Swimming," he replied without hesitation.

"Really? I wouldn't have guessed."

"Is it so unusual?" he said.

Rose shook her head. "No. I knew you had _athletic_ tendencies, but I can't picture you in water."

"It's been quite a while," he said. "When I was younger, my family's winter home had a pool indoors. I swam year round." His voice was wistful.

"If you enjoy it so much, you should do it."

"I don't have much free time," he said. "Or a place to do it."

Rose gave him a look. "Cal, with all your money, you could have two pools installed, indoors and out."

Cal laughed. "I suppose I could." His eyes grew thoughtful. "Would you like that?"

"I wouldn't dislike it," she said slowly. "I know how to swim, but Mother never liked for me to go in the water."

"Too unseemly?"

"And dangerous," she added. "She was always sure I'd drown."

"It's a possibility."

"I could die doing just about anything," Rose pointed out. "That's no reason to avoid life."

"She's very protective of you," Cal said. "I understand why."

"You dont, not really. It's more than..." She shook her head. "Forget it."

"What?"

"It doesn't matter," she said.

"You don;t have to tell me," he said. "But you can. Rose, I want you to trust me. I can't understand why you don't, and I don't know how to make it happen. The man you want, I don't know how to be him."

"You've done worse. I like the way you are now," Rose said. "You aren't perfect, but you're more like a real person. I don't feel as if you're planning what you're going to say next while I'm talking, rather than listening."

"How did you know I do that?"

Rose stared at him, trying to decide if he was joking. The corners of Cal's mouth turned up, and she laughed. "You know you've done it," she said.

"I doubt I;m the only one," Cal said.

"That doesn't excuse it." She closed her eeys and put her hand to her head. She exhaled heavily. "It's so absurd."

"Is your headache back?"

Rose nodded. "Mmhmm."Cal crawled over to her, squeezing between her and the wall. She sat between his legs. "Cal, what are you doing?" she asked.

"Lean," he said, putting his hands on her shoulders.

"You're incredibly presumptuous," she said.

He pressed his fingertips into her shoulders and the base of her neck. "Do you want me to stop?" he asked. She felt relief almost immediately.

"No," she said. "But you should ask _first_."

"I'm sorry."

"Are you?" she said.

"I don't want to hurt you, Rose."

He certainly seemed to believe it. She didn't respond; what was there to say? And between the movements of his hands, and the overwhelming closeness of him, Rose couldn't think. She smelled him, not the perfume of the soaps and lotions he splashed on himself every day, but the real scent of him. She'd smelled it before, when they lay down to sleep, but this was different. That was about survival; this was comfort, at best. This wasn't keeping warm and staving off fear. This was unexpected. Rose wasn't sure she wanted or trusted it.

She felt his breath on her neck and realized her was breathing her in too. She waited for him to kiss her and was surprisingly disappointed when he didn't. She would have been amused to discover Cal was wrestling with himself about that very thing.

...

"Sir?"

"What is it, Summers?" Percy said. They'd been canvassing the streets on the off chance they might see something relevant to the case. Percy was certain they were close; a break in the case was definitely near, if he only waited long enough. It just made too much sense; not to mention the convenience of it all.

"Don't you think we should be heading back?"

"Not yet," Percy said.

"The men are getting restless," Summers said. "There was a call to the local sherriff a few minutes ago. Hockley's demanding results."

"Tell him that's what we're up here looking for," Percy replied. "And we'll get our jobs done much faster without him demanding a report every half hour."

"You really want me to tell him that?"

"I guess not," Percy said. "But wouldn't it be nice? No, tell him he'll know something as soon as we do. I've got a feeling it won't be long," he added.

"I know what you mean, sir," Summers said.

"You're a good man, Summers," Percy said. "Why don't you take a dinner break and then check the boardinghouse again? Just in case."

"Right, sir."

...

Rose let her head rest on Cal's shoulder. At any other time she would've been mortified to find herself in such a position. It was worse than being on his lap; she was caught between his legs, a fact she tried not to think about. The pain in her head had receded, thanks in large part to his efforts, a fact it was hard not to appreciate.

"I can't imagine you as a healer," she said.

"Maybe that's because I'm not," Cal replied.

"What would you call this?"

"Healing sounds a bit too grand for a simple neck massage," he said.

"Are my ears deceiving me? Cal, was that _modesty_? Did you just refuse to take credit for something?" Rose said. "Unbelievable."

"I'd rather take credit for something more impressive."

"Such as?" she said.

"You want an example?"

Rose shrugged. She lifted her head so their eyes met. "Unless you don't have one," she challenged.

Cal thought he detected a flirtatious note in her voice. He glanced at her her lips, remembering the taste of them. He moved slowly, waiting for her to stop him.

Their lips brushed, softly at first, but he caressed her cheek with the back of his hand, and slowly, it became a real kiss.

Rose wasn't sure what was happening. His tongue flicked over hers, and she responded instinctively. Her heart pounded. Was this happening? Was she _enjoying_ this?

The trap door opened, and they jumped, the moment shattered. Sid appeared, followed by Dan. Sid looked them over, amusement on his face. His eyes, however, were hard. "What do you want?" Cal said, disgustedly.

"Is tht any way to speak to your hosts?" Sid replied. He clucked his tongue disapprovingly. "How rude of you. And here I thought the upper classes were so well-mannered."

Cal glared at him. "How would you know?"

"Cal," Rose said. "Don't."

He held her closer. "It's alright, Rose."

"Touching," Sid mocked. "We came for her."

"Keep away from her," Cal warned.

"Cal," Rose said again.

Annoyance spiked his voice. "I can handle this," Cal said.

Sid shook his head. "No, you can't. It's time to make another call, and we need her to do it. Now." Neither of them moved. Sid sighed and reached into his jacket. The gun gleamed, despite the dim light. " _Now_ ," he snapped.

Rose tried to stand up, but Cal held her down. "Don't," he ordered.

"I have to," Rose said.

"He won't shoot you."

"He doesn't need me," Rose argued. She looked into Cal's eyes. "I barely trust _you_. How can I trust him?"

Dan grabbed Rose by the arm. She stiffened, the instinct to fight taking over. But then she stopped. There would be a time to fight, but this wasn't it. He placed a cloth over her eyes and tied it roughly. She felt herself being pushed up the stairs. His hands dug into her arms.

Sid watched Cal, gun still in hand. "I'll bring her back," he said. "Eventually."

Cal looked from him to the open door. Sid was at the bottom of the stairs, only a few feet away. He had a gun, but Cal didn't quite believe that mattered. It was that blind confidence which allowed him to act. It all happened so fast; he didn't have a chance to think. He took a breath, and then he was lunging at Sid.

Sid held the gun like a natural, but his first instinct wasn't to shoot. He raised his arm to push Cal back, but there was no stopping him. The gun clattered to the floor, and they both landed on the stairs. Sid reached for the gun. A punch from Cal stopped him. He blinked, stunned. Before he could react, the butt of the gun collided with his jaw, and he was out cold.

Cal scrambled to his feet. He took the stairs two at a time, emerging into a dusty, nearly empty room. It wasn't the sort of place anyone would live voluntarily. There was a door to his left. He ran over to it, laughing as he threw it open. Sunshine spilled over him.

Cal was halfway across the porch when he remembered. Rose. He turned on his heel and ran back inside.


	6. Chapter 6

Later, when she could breathe again, Rose would go over the events of that day, trying to find some logic in all of it, to determine if her heart leapt at the sight of Cal because of what he represented-freedom, safety, in that moment, at least-or because of _him_. It was a question she would never quite find the answer to; all she knew was, when he appeared in the doorway, framed by the afternoon sun, he had never looked so handsome.

They heard pieces of the fight, and Dan went to investigate. He ordered her to stay put, using his finger instead of a gun. Hastily, she made a note of that. It could be misleading, but she didn't think so. Sid was obviously the boss. From his behavior so far, she doubted he was handing out weapons.

Rose waited a moment. She held her breath, not sure if this chance was really presenting itself. And then she ran.

She didn't get far.

Dan burst through the door, a woozy Sid under his arm. She froze, and for a moment they just stared at one another. She heard footsteps behind her, and a new voice ask, "What's going on?" John regarded the scene with shock. She turned, and he shrank back, ducking his head for fear of being recognized. He was vaguely familiar, but Rose didn't know why. She looked over Dan's shoulder, to the door, and without giving herself time to think, rushed past him.

Dan dropped Sid, who sank with a low groan. John cried out but didn't follow her. Dan grabbed her arm as she reached the door. That's when Cal appeared. He held the gun loosely; his whole body was loose, as if he faced situations such as this every day. Of course, Rose would think later, his blind self-confidence served him well.

Cal didn't hesitate. He raised the gun. "Come on, Rose," he yelled, holding out his free hand. Dan moved toward them, undeterred. Rose took Cal's hand, and he pushed her through the door. She heard the shot, but Cal grabbed her arm before she could turn back. Without a word, they were off.

...

It didn't matter what direction they went in. They had no idea where they were, so any direction was as good as any other. They ran into the woods, numb to the branches whipping against their faces, leaving scratches and red welts across their skin. Rose barely felt her feet touch the ground; she seemed to be flying. Her hand was firmly wrapped around Cal's, and they ran side by side.

Suddenly, Cal pitched forward. Pain seared through his left leg, and he skipped a breath. He saw the ground rushing toward him and froze. Rose grabbed his arm and pulled him back, but it was too late. She only managed to slow him down. He landed on his knees; she was next to him.

Cal gasped. The pressure on his knee was excruciating. He clenched his jaw. Cold beads of perspiration covered his body. "What happened?" Rose asked. She tossed her hair back. Concern filled her eyes. "Cal?" He was slumped over, eyes closed. She tried to lift him up, but he resisted. "Just let me help you," she said.

"I can't," he said.

"Yes, you can. Just relax."

Slowly, Rose moved him back, so he was leaning against a tree. His right leg uncurled easily, but his left didn't budge. It was already swollen. "You have to move your leg," she said. "Just-"

"No!" he cried.

"Cal-"

"I can't," he insisted.

"We can't leave it this way," Rose said.

"I can't move it." Cal's voice took on a plaintive note. "Rose, it hurts too much."

"Let me look at it then," she said.

"Why?"

"So we'll know how bad it is," she replied.

"I can tell you how bad it is. I _feel_ how bad it is!"

"We can't just sit here," Rose said. "We don't even know where we are or how far away help is. Those men could be following us!" She tried to keep her voice even, but it betrayed her in the end. "Cal, you have to understand. We will die out here if we don't keep moving."

"I can't move it," he said.

"You don't have to. We'll just take a look." She took hold of his pants and began tearing, starting at his ankles.

Cal's eyes widened. "What are you doing?"

"Getting to your knee."

"You're destroying my pants!" he cried.

Rose gave him a patient look. "How else am I supposed to examine it?" she asked. "Do you want to remove your pants?"

He balked at the suggestion, suddenly shy. "No. No, of course not," he said quickly. "It's too cold for that."

"Alright then."

Rose hid her shock when she saw just how injured he was. His knee was already at least twice its normal size, and it appeared to be changing colors, the bruises growing darker by the second. Cal could see most, but not all of the damage. "It's bad, isn't it?" he said, in a defeated voice. His head rolled back. "We're trapped here."

"We are not trapped," Rose insisted. "Weren't you telling me to have confidence, just this morning?" she added. "What happened to that?"

"That was before I broke my leg!" he yelled angrily. His dark eyes flashed. "How can I possibly go on now?"

Rose's features turned to marble. "Being angry with me won't change anything," she said, in a quiet but firm voice. "It won't get us home."

"Well, maybe it's your fault I'm stuck here, like this!" he said accusingly. "If I hadn't gone back for you-"

"I didn't make you hurt yourself," she said, in the same even tone. "That was an accident."

Cal stared at her, disbelieving. "An accident?"

"That's all it was," she replied. "It could've happened with or without me. It could've happened to me instead."

"Better that it had," he muttered.

"What was that?"

"Didn't you hear me?" he said coolly.

Rose shook her head. "I knew it wouldn't last. The moment we're free, you're back to the way you've always been. Blaming others for everything."

"If it _was_ you," he said. "We'd still have a chance. We'll never make it if I can't walk. I could've carried you, but you'll be lucky to drag me a few feet."

"If you intend to have that attitude, I doubt I try," Rose said.

...

As soon as his head cleared, Sid began barking orders. "We have to find them. Now." His head ached, and when he moved, dizziness threatened to overtake him, but that could be dealt with. It was nothing compared to the problem at hand. "How could you let this happen?" he demanded.

"Us?" John said. "You let him out!"

"I did not _let_ him out," Sid replied acidly. "He escaped."

"There's a difference?" John shot back. "Because there wouldn't be if one of us were involved!"

Sid's eyes narrowed. He stepped closer to John. "You're saying _I_ caused this?"

"Yeah, that's what I'm saying. You started this," John said. "It was all your idea. You said you could handle it, and now look where we are!"

Dan put a hand on Sid's shoulder. "Fighting with each other won't help," he said. "It's everyone's fault. We all should've been more careful." He gave each of them a long look. "What matters now is getting them back."

"What if we can't?" John said. "What if they make it to town first?"

"We're thirty miles out," Sid reminded him. "And they don't have a car. They don't have anything. They don't even know what direction to go in. There's no-one else out we don't find them, they'll probably die."

"Then I say we get out of here," John replied. "Now, while we still can. They'll find someone. Too many people are looking for them."

"Up here?" Dan said. "Who would look up here?"

"The cops are looking everywhere, the whole state," John said. "Didn't you see the paper?" He shook his head. "How could I let you talk me into this?"

"Don't act like you didn't want to be part of this!" Sid snapped. "You wanted to get back at him as much as we did. No-one forced you. You knew the risks."

"Did I?" John asked. "Did you?" he added, turning to Dan, who shook his head. "Don't do this," Dan said. "We don't have time for this."

John was pale now, a thin layer of sweat covering his face. "You roped us into this," he said, pointing an accusing finger at Sid. "You made it sound so easy. You convinced me it would be over by now!"

"I never said that!" Sid replied angrily. "I said we'd get away with it, but I never said it would be easy! If you want out, go. Just remember, you'll be in as deep as the rest of us if they make it back to town." His eyes were cold. "They saw you too, remember? And he knows you."

John let out a heavy breath. His shoulders sagged. "What have I done?" he said quietly.

Sid clapped him on the back. Gone was the cold look; his eyes were bright and hopeful; he wore a lopsided grin. "You helped," he said. "We made something happen. And now, we've gotta finish the job."

"My wife," John said, not hearing him. "If she finds out..."

"She won't," Sid assured him. "No-one will."

"If we find them, then what?" Dan asked. "Are we still letting them go, after we get the money?" He searched Sid's face, but it was unreadable. That part of the plan had never quite made sense to him, but he'd kept his mouth shut about it. Kidnapping was simple. Keep them locked up; collect the money; disappear. Easy. And top it off, they'd get back at Hockley. Show him he couldn't just push people around. He couldn't do whatever he liked without any consequences.

The plan was to release their location to the cops after they collected the money, and after they'd made their getaway. As Sid explained, it wouldn't matter if Hockley and his fiancee knew what they looked like, if they were a thousand miles away, and after all, theirs weren't unusual faces. They could be anyone. Only John could be identified with any certainty.

All that had changed, and Dan feared, their plans had changed with it.

...

They'd barely made any progress. Despite her threat, Rose refused to leave Cal alone. He'd almost certainly die without her, and no matter how vile his behavior, she couldn't allow that.

His full weight was on her; his arm was across her shoulders. She had both arms wrapped around him, holding him up. He didn't try to limp. Instead, Cal just let himself be dragged. Rose's back ached from pulling him; her arms were getting stiff, but she kept going. Already, night was beginning to fall, and with it, the temperatures. Her mind raced. What would they do? Where would they sleep? How would they eat? Nothing in her life had ever prepared her for a situation like this. She wasn't sure she could handle it. Panic welled up inside her. It wasn't fair. She shouldn't have to deal with all of this herself. Her throat tightened, and tears burned her eyes.

"You have to help me," Rose heard herself say. Cal looked at her. "You have to try and walk more," she said. "I know you can."

"This is the best I can do," he replied indignantly.

"Just try," she said. "Please."

"I thought you were going to leave me behind."

"Don't tempt me," she said. She adjusted her grip on him. "Cal, I need you to help, or we won't make it more than a few more feet."

"I can't," he insisted. "I'm injured."

"Only one of your legs is injured. Try putting some weight on the other one."

"I don't know how you can ask me to do that," he grumbled. Slowly, he pressed down on his good leg. He started to wobble, but Rose held him steady. "Just limp," she said. "I'll keep you from falling."

Their pace only improved slightly, but with Cal making even a small effort, moving was much easier.

"Why don't you leave me?" Cal asked.

"Are you serious?"

"It would be easier," he said. "Without me, you could make it to help. It's what I'd do," he added.

"You would leave me out here?" Rose said.

"Not _you_."

"Oh no, of course not me," she said drily. "But you'd abandon someone, right? And I'm supposed to believe it wouldn't be me. You almost left me back at the house."

"I came back for you. I didn't go far," he argued. "I was overwhelmed. I wasn't thinking."

"You were thinking you could get away."

"Well, of course I thought that!" he said. "Wouldn't you? Didn't you think so, when you saw me?"

"I don't know what I was thinking." Rose was silent for a moment. "But I won't leave you. Not yet anyway."

"You do care for me, Rose, don't you?" Cal said. "A little?"

"Don't mistake decency with love."

"So, that's what you are. A good, decent person," he replied. "Unlike me."

"I didn't say that."

"You don't have to, Rose," he said. "Your thoughts are quite clear."

She shook her head. "You think you know everything."

"I know you."

"No," Rose said. "You don't."

...

"Let's stop here," Rose suggested. It was pitch black. She helped Cal sit down, ignoring his grumbling. Once he was taken care of, she sank to the ground. Shivering, she hugged her knees, bringing her curls around her arms, as if they could provide warmth. She heard Cal's breathing, low and quick. She didn't need to see him to know he was shivering as well.

Rose pressed against his side. Cal gave her a surprised look. Before he could say anything, she said, "It's too cold for arguments. If we want to survive, we have to help each other, like you said."He put an arm around her. Even in the freezing darkness, she was warm, and he was glad for her presence. "You don't have any secret fire building skills, do you?" she joked.

"Unfortunately not."

"I didn't think so," she said.

"There wasn't anything in all your books?"

"Not about this," Rose replied. She laughed dryly. "For two people with such expensive educations, we have very little practical knowledge. It seems like a waste of money."

"It isn't in the real world," Cal said.

"And where are we? This feels real enough to me."

"It isn't _our_ world," he said.

" _Your_ world," she corrected. "I'm not sure it's mine anymore."

"How can you say that? It's where you belong, where you were meant to be. What would you possibly do if you ran away?"

"I don't know," she said. "I might do anything. That's what makes it so interesting. If I ran away, my life would no longer be planned. I wouldn't know exactly what would happen each day."

"That just sounds irritating. Rose, most people enjoy routines. They enjoy knowing they'll have food and a place to sleep, nice things, friends, a purpose in life."

"I didn't say I don't want those things," she said.

"If you ran away, you wouldn't have them," Cal pointed out. "And that's what you want to do, isn't it?"

"I don't know. I don't know anything anymore."

"Well, I'm glad you're speaking to me," he said. "It may not mean much, but I am."

"I was disappointed in the way you behaved earlier," she said carefully.

"It's possible I overreacted. I was in pain and afraid...I'm sorry," he said softly.

"I've never heard you apologize before."

"I don't usually mean it when I do," he said.

"Did you mean it just now?"

"Do you think I did?" he asked.

The darkness was too thick even make out the shape of his face. Rose found his mouth. She traced his bottom lip with her thumb. Cal held his breath; the goosebumps arising on his arms weren't just from the cold anymore. "I believe you," she said. "But I'm not sure it matters."

"Of course it matters."

"Not if we die," she argued.

"Maybe that's why it matters," he said, holding her tighter.

...

They searched until dusk. Sid argued for staying in the woods and setting up camp, but Dan calmly pointed out their lack of supplies. "Besides," he added. "If they find us asleep, they'll probably kill us. He's still got your gun." Secretly, he wondered if they wouldn't be justified in doing so. John said nothing. He'd been silent since the confrontation ended, and despite Sid's outward demeanor, they all felt the tension.

When they woke up the next morning, John was gone. He took all of his things with him. He didn't leave a note. It was as though he'd never been there.

"Now what?" Dan said.

"Now we have him to worry about on top of everything else," Sid replied.


	7. Chapter 7

The pain was excruciating. It radiated from his knee, enveloping his whole body. Cal didn't want to move; he didn't think he _could_. The cold cut through his clothes, his skin, and down into his bones. He clenched his jaw to stop his teeth from chattering. He couldn't even feel his body shivering anymore.

The sun was breaking through the trees, and all around them, the forest was waking up. Cal couldn't remember sleeping, though he knew he must have. Rose was curled up against him, her head on his shoulder. He was afraid to wake her up. She'd insist they move on, insist that he try walking on his own. Cal didn't want to face that yet. It was hard to imagine the pain could get any worse, but it Ccould, and he knew it. Just the thought of trying to bend his knee sent a fresh ache through his leg.

Rose was so stubborn, so determined to make it back home, to drag him along with her. Didn't she understand he was a waste of effort now? Cal didn't want to be left behind; he was terrified by the prospect, but he couldn't understand why someone would risk their own life in such an absurd way. Going back for Rose was one thing. He'd never be able to show his face again if people found out he ran, leaving her to be killed or worse. His life would be ruined.

And, he had to admit, he owed it to her. Without her, he doubted he would've survived. Once his anger subsided, and when bargaining failed, Cal knew there was the likelihood he would simply give up. He was a practical man. He assumed there was a way out of everything, but perhaps, sometimes, there wasn't. Not to mention, without Rose to curb his outbursts, they might have killed him at the start to avoid the trouble of dealing with him. Part of him suspected he was only alive because of Rose, not only her interventions, but also, because killing a defenseless woman was beyond even their captors.

...

Waking up to Cal gazing at her was startling enough, but even more startling was the look of pure tenderness on his face. Rose opened her eyes, and for a moment, she forgot their situation. Cal's eyes were warm, and she saw affection and concern, if not outright love, in them. Warmth spread across her, despite the cold. She wanted to stay like that as long as they could.

"How did you sleep?" Cal asked softly.

"Well, considering the cirumstances." She put on a brave smile. "How are you feeling?"

"Cold," he said.

"You're not alone there. How's your leg?"

"Best not talk about that," he replied.

"Let me see it," Rose urged.

"No. Rose-"

But she was already up and out of his arms, peeling back his ripped pantleg. She stifled a gasp at the sight of his knee. The swelling had gotten worse during the night, and it was now an array of colors, from black to green. There was no way he could bend it, much less put weight on it. Rose's heart contracted. What would they do? She could help Cal along, but only so far.

Her stomach growled, reminding her of another pressing need. What would they eat? Rose cast her gaze around, but no viable presented themselves. They were in a forest. Surely there were berries or plants of some kind they could eat safely, but how to recognize them? Without meaning to, she found herself wishing for someone who _would_ know, someone with all the skills she and Cal lacked. Someone who could take her hand and help her find her way out of this.

Rose took a breath and let go of the dream. No such person existed, and even if they did, they weren't going to appear in the clearing. She and Cal were in this alone; they would have to find their way to safety somehow, using their own strength.

Cal's voice broke through her thoughts. "I know it's bad."

"It isn't that bad," she said.

He gave her a look. "Rose, I'm a lot of things, but I'm smarter than that."

She laughed wryly. "It could be worse. Your leg could be broken."

"It feels like my knee is," he replied.

Only now, did Rose notice how pale her was, how he clenched his jaw. "I'm sorry," she said. "Truly. I wish it hadn't happened."

"So we could get out of here."

"So you wouldn't be hurt," she said.

"Do you mean that?" Cal asked.

"Of course. I may not want to marry you, but..." Rose trailed off. It felt strange saying it out loud, even under these circumstances.

A shadow passed over his face. "Well," he said. "I suppose we should try walking."

...

Their pace was slow, but at least they were moving. Cal leaned on Rose, his arm draped across her shoulders, hers wrapped around him. His limp was pitiful, but he carried as much weight as he could handle. They grew warmer as the day unfolded, but the underlying chill never left. And unfortunately, the sun could do nothing to assuage their hunger.

"Do you hear that?" Rose asked, stopping suddenly. Cal stumbled, but she held him up. "Hear what?" he said.

"Listen." She cocked her head to one side. "It sounds like water."

"I don't hear anything."

"Over there!" she cried excitedly.

Rose pulled Cal along with renewed energy. Water! If only it was real. If only it wasn't a trick of her exhausted, famished mind. They crashed through the bushes. Rose could only stare. It was a small stream, but it was clear and clean. She laughed, tears in her eyes. Cal leaned his weight on a tree, freeing his arm to hold her better. He pressed his lips to her forehead. "You found water," he said, awe in his voice.

Their eyes met, and she smiled. To his surprise, she didn't push him away.

...

They followed the stream, stopping frequently to drink. Nothing was said about covering ground or losing daylight. Without realizing it, they'd settled into a state of acceptace. This is where they were; this is what they were up against. Their only options were to live or die. As long as they were together and moving, however slowly, they were choosing to live. They were _going_ to live.

"Do you need to rest?" Rose asked.

Cal shook his head. "No. I'm fine." It was a lie. The pain had only gotten worse with each step. She studied his face, and it was obvious she knew. But she didn't press the matter. Cal appreciated that. Being injured was hard enough already.

Mostly, they were silent. Talking required too much energy, and they had to conserve every bit they could. There was no predicting when they would eat again. Rose tried not to think _if_ they would eat again. Her head pounded, and her stomach burned. All her realizations about hunger, learned so recently during their captivity, seemed trivial now. Even then, she hadn't known what real hunger was. Or fear.

She snuck at glance at Cal. He wouldn't make it much further.

...

The night enveloped them. They drank greedily from the stream, filling their protesting bellies with as much water as they could hold. At least they had water. Rose didn't know much about starvation, but she knew water was essential to survival. They'd last longer without food.

But eventually...

She pushed away the thought with a quick shake of her head. "We'll stay here," she announced.

"Shouldn't we keep going?" Cal said. "They'll be looking for us."

"You _can't_ keep going," she replied, matter-of-factly.

He frowned but said nothing. The pain in his ego rivaled the pain in his body. While Rose busied herself setting up a camp, which mostly consisted of gathering leaves and soft, sweet smelling grass for a makeshift bed, Cal stared into the darkness.

This wasn't supposed to happen. Not to him. He'd thought it many times since their abduction, of course, but somehow, it was worse now. When they were moving, he couldn't think. Everything was instinct. One foot in front of the other. Ignore the pain. All the emotions he'd held at bay washed over him, and Cal felt like he was drowning. Death had never seemed so close. He'd never thought of it as real. It was just a vague concept. Something that happened to other people. Not to him. Never to him.

"Cal?"

He gasped as Rose's hand touched his shoulder. He looked up, but he couldn't see the concerned look on her face. "We should try to sleep," she said.

He wanted to thank her for making the bed, but the words wouldn't come. His throat was too tight. He was ashamed to admit it, but he was certain if he spoke, he'd burst into tears. He couldn't remember the last time he cried. The very idea was repugnant to him. And yet, it held a certain appeal.

They lay down in the grass, arms around each other. There was no question of sleeping otherwise; staying warm was difficult enough. Cal struggled to find a position that wouldn't make his knee feel worse. He closed his eyes and focused on Rose, the way she felt against him, the warmth of her breath on his neck. If they survived, he'd find a way to earn her trust. He just had to.

...

John went home to his wife. He didn't bother giving notice at the boarding house, figuring when he didn't show up again, the landlady would just rent out his room. He wished he'd given a fake name, but he'd wanted his wife to be able to find him. Now, he realized that meant anyone else could as well. There was a record of his being in that town.

He tried not to think about it. He made up a story about trouble at his new job, claiming he decided to come home to avoid getting involved. His wife understood, or said she did. John didn't question it.

Meanwhile, Sid and Dan continued their search. After the first day, they brought along supplies and set up camp. They took turns keeping watch, with the assumption that as long as they had guns of their own, Cal couldn't do much damage with his. They didn't say it, but they both knew two days without food must be taking their toll. And there was the cold. There was no gurarantee Cal and Rose would still be alive when they found them.

...

"Wake up," Rose said wearily. The sun was peeking through the trees already. Her back was stiff, and she felt like she hadn't slept at all. Her stomach didn't rumble anyore; it just ached.

Rubbing his eyes, Cal sat up. His hand stayed on her waist. "This was a terrible idea," he said, trying to sound cheerful. "A waste of a vacation."

Rose smiled weakly. "Isn't it?"

She helped him to his feet, and they set off again, carrying each other into the next day.

...

"If you could eat anything in the world, what would it be?" Rose asked.

Cal sighed. "Must we play this game?"

"We must," she said. "We have to distract ourselves."

"Is talking about food really going to do that?"

"What do you want to talk about?" she asked.

Cal searched his mind, but it was blank. He couldn't focus on anything. There was a dull throbbing at the base of his skull, blotting out his thoughts. Finally, he said, "If you could go anywhere, where would you go?"

Rose answered without hesitation. "Greece."

Cal made a face. "Greece? Why there?"

"Why not there?" she replied. "Think of the history, the ruins. There's thousands of years of culture to explore. And it's beautiful. Who wouldn't want to go to a lovely island?"

"You would bring up history," he said good-naturedly.

"And what is wrong with history?"

"Nothing," he said. "Especially not if you're a bluestocking." He half-smiled. "Which, I can no longer deny you are."

"Are you insulting me?"

"No, not at all," he said. "Just observing. How I ended up engaged to someone like you..." He shook his head. "I still don't quite understand it. You just..."

"I was beautiful and suitable," Rose finished.

"Well, yes, but that's not all," Cal said.

"What else is there?"

"Love?" he suggested.

"Cal, you don't love me," she said patiently.

"You don't know that."

Rose ignored the comment. "Where would you go?"

"Home."

"But in the game?" she said.

"I can't choose home?" he said.

"I think that's rather like talking about food," she pointed out.

"Holland."

She glanced at him. "Really? I wouldn't have expected that."

"Why not?"

"It just doesn't seem like you," she said.

"It's beautiful there, like something out of a story," he said. "I was there in the spring once, when the tulips were blooming." He tried but couldn't summon the memory. His spirits sank even further.

Rose felt him slump. She propped him up as best she could. "Why don't we rest for a while?" she said.

...

"Do you want to keep going?" Cal asked.

Rose shook her head. "No."

"You don't think we should keep moving?" he said.

She sighed. "We should." Dragging herself to her feet had never taken so much effort. She reached down and took Cal's arm.

"I can do it," he said.

"You'll hurt yourself."

He grabbed hold of the tree and hauled himself up. It was all he could do to hold back a cry of pain. "See?" he said brightly. "Fine."

"You're not," Rose said.

"Of course I am. We both are." He tried to sound encouraging, but he knew it didn't matter. It wasn't reaching her. "We'll be fine, Rose."

She didn't respond.

...

Night was falling. It seemed to Rose that night was always falling. They barely took three steps, and the sun was disappearing. She closed her eyes for a moment, and it was back again. Time didn't make sense anymore. Everything she saw seemed to shift from one spot to another, even when she was standing still. Dizziness crept up her spine, threatening to overtake her. One false step, and she'd fall, just like the night, only she'd stay down.

Cal was talking. His voice was faint but comforting. She almost laughed at the absurdity of it.

"Rose?" he said. "Rose?" He peered down at her. "What's wrong?"

She blinked, the fog in her head clearing. "Nothing," she said.

"You should have some water," he said.

There was bitterness in her voice. "I should have some food." Still, she knelt by the edge of the stream and used her hands as a cup. The cold water was better than nothing, though it chilled her even more. She tried but couldn't remember being warm.

"I know," Cal said. He put his hands on her arms. "I'm sorry. If it weren't for me, you wouldn't be here."

"I thought it was all my fault," she said sharply.

"I shouldn't have said that. I wanted to blame someone. I-"

"You always want to blame someone," Rose said. She looked at him over her shoulder. "I don't care why we're here. That doesn't matter anymore. I just want to be home again." Tears glistened in her eyes. Cal wrapped his arms around her, forgetting his knee. "I know," he said. "We'll make it back, Rose."

"Because you can do anything?" she said mockingly.

Cal pressed his forehead to hers. "Yes. Because I can do anything."

...

They were filthy. It was something they didn't think much about. Cold and hunger took precedent. They knew better than to try bathing in the stream. They curled up together on a patch of moss, neither noticing the other's dirtiness. They smelled; surely, they must, but not to each other. What did a little thing like that matter anymore?

"I've never really looked at the stars," Cal said. "They're quite beautiful."

"I love them," Rose said. "I like how they make me feel."

"How's that?"

"Like nothing matters," she said. "All the things everyone we know cares about, the parties, the clothes, the money. Everything that goes into making our world what it is. None of it matters. To the stars, we're all just the same specks of dust."

"I don't care for that."

"No, you wouldn't," she said.

"I'd rather not think of myself as a speck of dust," he replied.

"It isn't a bad thing. It's just a description of insignificance. It's not who you are."

"I am not insignificant," he said jokingly.

"Don't I know it."

"Neither are you," he added.

...

They tried to remember how long it had been since their escape, but the days blurred together. Time refused to cooperate. Rose's head spun no matter what she did. Her hands were beginning to shake. Cal moved even slower now. He couldn't put any weight on his bad leg. When Rose tried to check it, he waved her away. "Why bother?" he said. "We know it's bad."

They kept going as long as they could, limping forward, one laborious step at a time. They no longer worried about being found. Their will to survive was strong, but it was possibly the only thing still strong in them. It could only do so much.

"I have to rest," Cal said. He slid to the ground. Rose didn't argue. She followed him down. They wrapped their arms around each other. The sun beamed down on them, but all she wanted was to sleep. Cal's eyes closed. He was heavy against her. She felt him breathing, and let herself sink into oblivion.

...

She woke up. How much time had passed, she couldn't be sure, though the sun was still high. Her head swam. The urge to go back to sleep was overwhelming. Why had she woken up? Rose glanced at Cal. He hadn't moved. She touched his cheek and was startled by how cold he was. His chest wasn't rising.

A lump filled her throat. She wanted to shake him, but her arms wouldn't work. She wanted to scream. If her voice were loud enough, he would wake up. He had to. But nothing came out.

Rose lay her head on his shoulder and closed her eyes.

...

They didn't see the fence, didn't climb over and see the dirt road. They didn't hear the buggy approach, hear it stop, or the concerned voices of the men, speaking their unique Swiss-German dialect. They were too far gone to recognize help when it finally came.


	8. Chapter 8

Where was he? Cal struggled to move. The blankets were heavy. They lay across him like boulders, and he imagined his lungs constricting under the pressure. The room was dark. His feet pressed against something warm and solid, and he wondered at it. The bed was large, the mattress firm, much better than the ground, though it felt like nothing he'd ever slept on before. Obviously, they hadn't been found by their captors, which left the question, where was he?

He raised his head slightly and looked around, squinting against the darkness. He could just make out the shapes of furniture, but that was all. He knew the other side of the bed was empty. Where was Rose? Why wasn't she with him?

Slowly, Cal pulled himself up. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and sat there, unable to go any further. He shivered. His bare feet brushed the cold floor, and he considered getting back in bed. Rose was probably fine. He was in a nice bed. Surely, she was as well. If someone found him, they had to have found her.

No. He couldn't think that way. He knew better. Why was he still so quick to worry about only himself? Cal didn't quite understand unlearning a lifetime of selfishness and self-absorption would take more than a few days.

"Rose?" he called into the darkness. He gripped the bedpost, gasping at the pain in his leg. "Rose?" He limped forward, hands out in front of him; he was sure he would fall, if he didn't collide with something first. Cold air and more darkness greeted him when he opened the door. "Rose?" His voice was louder now.

He wasn't outside. He could tell that much. It seemed to be a hallway. At the far end, he saw a window; dim moonlight peeked through the curtains. He leaned against the wall as he went. "Rose? Are you here?"

He saw a light go on beneath a door. There were whispers, followed by footsteps. Cal shrank back, suddenly afraid. It wasn't Rose coming out to meet him. He knew, almost without realizing it, that she wouldn't have left him by choice. She wouldn't leave him to wake up alone, in the dark, in a strange place. That was something _he_ might do, but not Rose.

Emma held up the lamp. Cal's eyes widened. He'd been expecting someone threatening, or at least, someone male, but not this petite woman with a youthful face. She spoke, but all he heard was gibberish. "What?" he said. "Who are you? Where is this? Where's Rose?"

Emma gave him a puzzled look. She understood some of what he said, but most of it was incomprehensible. He spoke too quickly for her to make out the strange, English words. "Rose?" she said. Her accent was thick. German, he would've said, with a touch of something else. Cal didn't care much for Europe as a rule; it was too old and pretentious, with everyone going on about Culture and Art. To hear them talk, you'd think putting paint on a canvas was an accomplishment.

"Yes, Rose," he barked. "Where is she?"

Amos stepped out behind Emma. He glanced at Cal and put his hand on her shoulder. He spoke in a low voice. Once again, Cal struggled to understand. Annoyed, he drew himself up to his full height, his features rearranging themselves in a scowl. He'd already forgotten the debt he owed these strangers.

Emma nodded quickly. "Oh. Yes. Deine Frau?" she said, turning to Cal. "Your wife?" she added in English. "Rose."

"No, she-Yes," Cal said. "My wife. Rose is my wife." It was a lie, but so what? They came to that conclusion on their own, and besides, it seemed like the only way he'd get to see her. These people, whoever they were, had separated them for a reason. His leg ached, and he longed to slump down and let the wall hold him up, but he didn't dare appear weak. Never mind that his kind hosts were already well aware of his injury.

"She's sleeping," Amos said. "In here."

Cal hobbled past him. Emma held up the lamp, allowing him to see into the room. A large bed stood in the middle of the floor. Rose's curls peeked out above a pile of quilts. Cal let out a relieved sigh. He leaned against the door frame, gazing at her.

"You can stay here," Amos suggested.

"I'm going to," Cal replied.

Without waiting for a response, he closed the door. It never occurred to him such an act might be considered rude, particularly under the circumstances. Even if it had, Cal might not have cared. These people had helped them, but was that so extraordinary? Rather than feeling grateful, he felt entitled, as usual.

Cal slipped into bed, careful not to disturb her. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close. Rose curled up against him. He wondered if she sensed his presence. Did she know they'd been separated? Did she care? He hoped she cared.

...

He opened his eyes to find her watching him. Their faces were only inches apart. For a moment, Cal couldn't move. He didn't want to. He just wanted to lie there, holding her, and he feared the inevitable change coming.

Rose smiled. "You're awake," she said softly. "I've been waiting."

"For a long time?"

"Not really," she said. "I like the way you look when you sleep."

He felt a rush of warmth at her words. "Where are we?" he asked.

"I don't know. I thought you might."

Cal shook his head. "I woke up last night in bed. Alone," he added.

"How did I get here?"

"I found you," he replied.

Rose looked amused. "You didn't throw a tantrum, did you?"

"No, I didn't," he said. "I just made sure I found you. The people here, they seem nice enough. They don't really speak English. I think they're German. I'm not sure."

"I wonder why they brought us into their home," Rose said. "We're such pitiful specimens. Or maybe that's why. What's the last thing you remember?"

"I remember we sat down. I was so exhausted I could hardly move. My body ached. I thought I was dying. I almost hoped I was. And then, nothing until I woke up."

"That's about what I remember too," she said. "I almost remember something, being carried. Voices. I couldn't understand them. I wasn't afraid. I'm not sure I was really awake."

"Why do you think they separated us?" he asked.

"I suppose they thought we'd rest better that way. With your leg-" Her brow furrowed with concern. "How is your leg?"

"Fine."

"I know it isn't," Rose said. "Let me look at it." She moved to sit up, and he let her go reluctantly. "They've bandaged it," she said, her voice tinged with gratitude. "It looks like a splint."

"It still hurts."

"I'd imagine it will for a while longer," she said. "But this has to help."

"I don't like this."

"What?" she said.

"Being here. Not knowing who these people are," he said. "Or what they want."

"Cal, I doubt they want anything. What could we possibly give them?" Rose laughed. "Look at us!"

"There's always something," he aruged. "They may know who we are. In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if they knew exactly who we were when they took us in. Our abduction must be in the news by now. There's probaby a reward for anyone who comes forward with information, or better yet, who returns us safely."

"Do you honestly believe that's why these people are helping us?" Rose shook her head. "Must you be so cynical?"

"It isn't cynicism, Rose," he replied. "I'm simply looking at our situation realistically. Anyone who helps us stands to gain a great deal. Who wouldn't like to claim the small fortune that's no doubt being offered?"

"There may be some truth in that, but not everyone acts purely out of a desire for personal gain. Some people genuinely want to help others."

"I'll believe that when I see it," Cal said.

"Let's go find out."

"What?" he said.

"You heard me. Let's go meet our rescuers," Rose said. "See what find of people they are."

Cal hesitated. "Are you sure?"

"We can't stay in this bed forever. I don't know about you, but I have to eat something soon. And a bath would be nice," she added. She looked down at the flannel nightgown she wore. "Here I am, absolutely filthy, in this clean bed and these clean clothes. Such a shame."

"If you really think we should..."

"You aren't afraid, are you?" she asked.

"What?" he said quickly. "No. Of course I'm not. How could you ask such a thing?"

Rose gave him a look. "I'll help you walk," she offered.

"I can manage."

...

Cal was able to manage, with the aid of the wall, but when they reached the stairs, he was forced to accept Rose's arm. She was gracious about it; the expected "I told you so" never came, for which he was grateful. The scene that followed was strange, and not a little awkward. Rose reflected on it as she soaked in the tub.

It was quite literally a tub, unlike any she had ever seen. At first, she didn't believe it was meant for bathing. Surely, they couldn't expect her to climb into that thing. She'd barely fit. Where would the water come from? But of course, the water came from a pot, which was heated on the stove. She should've known that. She'd read about this manner of bathing. It wasn't so very uncommon, even now, with indoor plumbing more accessible than ever.

And she was supposed to be the reasonable one.

Rose rubbed soap into her hair. Well, compared to Cal she was extremely reasonable, though that wasn't saying much, was it?

To his credit, he'd remained calm and polite while they spoke to Amos and Emma. He wasn't exactly friendly, but if they minded, they didn't let it show. Emma understood English better than she spoke it, and she understood most of what he said. She said little during the exchange, letting Amos do the talking.

"Where are we?" Cal asked.

"Lancaster," Amos replied.

Cal gave him an incredulous look. "Lancaster County? We can't be that far from home."

"Why not?" Rose said. "We drove for a long time."

"But even so," Cal argued. "Who are you?"

"I'm Amos Beiler, and this is my wife, Emma. This is our home." Amos spoke slowly, deliberately. Rose wondered if it was so he would be understood with his accent, or if it was because he doubted Cal's intelligence. She had to admit, she found the second option rather amusing.

"Do you live here alone?" Rose asked. "It's just the two of you?"

Amos nodded. "For now. We've only been married a short time." He glanced at Emma and smiled. A light blush spread across her cheek. Rose couldn't help smiling. They were so obviously in love. She felt a stab of envy. What must that be like?

Sighing, she dunked her head in the water.

...

The dress Emma laid out for her was a deep blue, with long sleeves. It was pretty, but plain, a far cry from her own clothes. The undergarments were white, with none of the lace and frills Rose was used to. Instead of silk and satin, these were heavy cotton. Or perhaps it was wool. She wasn't sure. They were clearly made with warmth in mind.

She felt strange in these borrowed garments. She studied herself in the mirror. It was too small to fully see herself, but what she could see, wasn't recognizable. Rose didn't know if that was good or bad.

...

Cal knew. He didn't like it at all. He didn't like the stiff, black suit, or the heavy shoes. He didn't like the scratchy cloth. He didn't like the lack of zippers. He didn't like the way he looked, or the way he felt. The clothes fit well enough, but they hadn't been made for him. The cut was all wrong. He frowned at his reflection. Would the indignities never end?

He combed his hair back, but it refused to stay in place. It fell forward around his face, giving him a much younger appearance. It looked nice, he had to admit, but he still didn't like it.

...

Rose stood awkwardly at the top of the stairs. She knew she should go down, but she couldn't bring herself to. Their rescuers were kind, generous people, and she didn't know how to begin thanking them properly. She also didn't know what to say to them. Their ways were so different. She'd only seen part of Please, the house, but it was obvious they lacked all modern conveniences, and she suspected money wasn't the cause. They were healthy, prosperous-looking people. Despite its old-fashioned appearance, the farmhouse was nice. Clean and well-built. It would last for centuries. Unlike the gilded mansions she'd been raised in.

"Rose?"

She stifled a laugh. "Cal, is that you?"

His frown deepened. He shifted uncomfortably. "Yes, unfortunately, it is," he said.

"You look so-"

"Don't say it. Please. I don't want to hear it," he said.

"You don't know what I was going to say."

"I do," he said.

Rose's voice was firm. "You don't."

Cal gazed at her for a moment before saying, "Shall we go down?"

"Should you be walking around?" she asked. "How's your leg?"

"Fine."

Rose tilted her head, crossing her arms over her chest. "I don't believe that. It didn't miraculously heal overnight, bandage or no bandage."

"The bandage helped."

"I'm sure it did," she replied, undeterred. "You're still in pain."

"You don't know that, Rose."

In fact, he was in a great deal of pain; just standing there was a challenge. But he'd never admit that, especially not to her.

"I see it in your eyes," she said. "You should be resting."

"I'm hungry, actually."

His words took her by surprise. It wasn't the admission she was looking for, but it was something. "So am I," she said. They'd eaten a large breakfast, but it only dulled her hunger; it wasn't cured.

"Let's see about lunch then," Cal suggested, offering his arm.

"You need to rest afterward."

"I need to see about getting us home," he replied.

"Rest," Rose insisted.

...

Cal didn't quite know why, but everything was different now that they were back in civilization. Well, almost civilization. He wasn't sure what to call their current surroundings, so he kept his mouth shut, for fear of offending their hosts. It was perhaps the first time he'd ever held back an opinion.

He didn't care about that so much; what he minded was the loss of intimacy with Rose. If that was the word for it. He wasn't sure about much of anything anymore. He glanced at her across the table. She was talking with Emma and didn't notice him. It was as if he wasn't even there. She didn't need him anymore. Whatever progress they'd made in their relationship, he realized, was only temporary.

He stared down at his plate, no longer hungry.

...

"We should be asking them to take us into town," Cal grumbled. "There's no reason to stay here."

"You're hurt," Rose reminded him. "That's a reason." Gently, she lifted his leg and placed a pillow under his knee. "Try not to move too much." Their eyes met, and she had to resist the urge to brush his hair back. He looked so young. Vulnerable. Touchable.

That wasn't really him, she reminded herself. It was the situation making him act this way. She'd seen a change in him already. He was reverting back to himself, and they weren't even home yet.

"I'm perfectly capable of traveling," he said.

Rose sighed. "Must you do this?"

Cal's face softened. He knew how close to death he'd been when Amos and his cousins found him. At first, they believed he was dead. His breathing was so shallow it was nearly undetectable. He was cold to the touch. And yet, they'd brought him back. He was still unconscious when they carried him into the house, but he was alive. Hot soup had been poured down his throat. Someone rubbed his hands and feet to restore circulation. His knee was bandaged, and he was put to bed. Alone. Cal owed these people more than he could ever possibly repay, and still, his separation from Rose gnawed at him. What right did they have to keep them apart?

"I'm sorry," he said.

Rose hid her surprise. "Just let yourself heal," she said. "We're safe. We'll get home soon." Her hand brushed his, and he wanted to take it but didn't. Panic welled up within him as she turned to go.

"Rose?"

"Yes?" she said.

"Would you mind staying?" he asked. "I don't want to be alone."

She looked into his eyes. "Alright."


	9. Chapter 9

Rose awoke with a start. Her heart pounded, and she was paralyzed with fear. All she could see was darkness. She couldn't remember where she was. All she could remember was cold and hunger and hands groping for her. Terror. The need to run.

Slowly, her breathing returned to normal, and she became aware of her surroundings. She felt Cal next to her, his arm around her. His breathing was soft. There was a blanket over her. Of course. She was in his bed, a place she never expected to be. Well, it was a place she never expected to be of her own volition. He shifted in his sleep, and she moved closer, glad for his presence. She lightly touched his face, tracing his features with her fingertips.

Rose hadn't intended to sleep in his room, though now she realized leaving might have led to some awkward questions from their hosts, who still believed them to be married. She didn't remember falling asleep. They spent the evening talking. She hadn't even been near him on the bed. He must've moved her onto a pillow. Why hadn't he just woken her up? Part of Rose was annoyed by this. It wasn't up to him to keep her there. And yet, she was still glad not to be alone.

His voice startled her. "What are you doing?"

"I thought you were asleep," she said.

"I was until you started touching my face," he replied, amused.

"Sorry. I didn't mean to wake you."

"It's alright," he said. "I don't mind." He took her hand and kissed it. There was a long pause. All they heard was the sound of the other's breathing. Rose felt warm all over, as if he'd kissed more than her hand. It was a nice feeling, and yet, she wasn't entirely comfortable with it. She wasn't sure if it was because Cal was involved, or because he was kissing her hand in the dark, unprompted. Perhaps both.

She took her hand away.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I didn't mean to offend you."

"I'm not offended."

"Are you upset?" he asked.

"Why would you ask that?"

"You moved your hand," he replied.

"I wasn't expecting...that," she said, failing to find an acceptable word. "I'm sorry for touching you. I shouldn't have done it."

"No, I don't mind," he said.

"I'm sure you don't," she said.

Cal couldn't help smiling. "I didn't mean it that way," he said. "Though you have every right to be offended and to assume I did."

Rose wished she could see his face. His tone was serious, but she wasn't sure if that could be trusted. He might be mocking her. Despite everything they had been through, she still didn't trust him completely. She had no assurance he wouldn't revert back to his former behavior now that they were out of danger. "Thank you," she said, careful to keep her voice neutral. "I should go."

"You don't have to go." He resisted the urge to reach for her. "It's late, and our hosts assume we're married anyway. You don't have to worry-"

"It isn't them I'm worried about," Rose said.

"Are you worried about me?"

"I didn't mean to say it that way," she answered. "I'm not worried, exactly."

"What is it, Rose? I won't hurt you," Cal said. "I wouldn't-I'd never-" The words refused to come out. He felt awkward, and even though it was dark, he was sure she could see him, and that made it worse.

"I don't think you would...Or maybe I do," she said. "I don't know. That's not..." Now it was her turn to be awkward and halting. "I just don't want there to be any misunderstanding," she said. "Any implications. Things are different now."

Cal let her words sink in. "I see," he said quietly. "You're right. Things are different. We can't behave the way we did during these past few days. It was necessary at the time, but-" But what? But that was all over now? Their conversations, their comfort with one another, was just gone? Wiped away by the real world? It was a painful thought, and one Cal didn't want to accept. Why did things have to go back to the way they were?

"But we have expectations to meet," Rose finished for him. "Obligations. We aren't free to do as we wish."

"Aren't we?" Cal spoke quickly, before he could stop himself. "Rose, if anyone is free, isn't it us?"

"What are you saying?"

"Simply that, we can do what we like," he said. "I can do what I like, and so can you, with me. I have that power, Rose."

She didn't dare take him at his word. "That's easy to say when we're still tucked away in the middle of nowhere," she replied. "But what happens when we go home? When we're expected to fulfill our duties? When _you're_ expected to play your role?" She shook her head. "No, Cal, it wouldn't work."

"But I don't want you to go," he insisted. "Stay, please."

Rose sighed. "That's what you said earlier."

"And you stayed. Was that just obligation?" he asked. "Did you think you owed it to me?"

"No. I've never felt indebted to you, though I suppose I should. You did save me. After you left me," she added dryly.

"I didn't intend to leave you behind. I wouldn't have-"

"I know, Cal," she said. "For all your faults, I don't think you wish me harm."

"At least we have that."

Rose almost wished she'd just remained asleep. She wished they didn't have to discuss any of this. Most of all, she wished her feelings weren't such a tangled mess. She didn't trust Cal, and yet, didn't she? Shouldn't she? She didn't like him at all, but didn't she? A little? There was a closeness between them now. That couldn't be denied. They had experienced something life altering together, something no-one else could ever understand. He'd shown her another side of himself. He'd shown her tenderness and care, respect, even. But did that matter? Could anything overcome the man she believed him to be?

Cal was wrestling with similar questions. His primary concern was keeping Rose close, physically and emotionally. He didn't want to lose the progress they'd made. Despite her insistence that she didn't want to marry him, he held out a hope that she would change her mind. If he could just keep her from pulling away again.

"I didn't just ask you to stay because I didn't want to be alone," he said.

"Then why did you ask?"

"I wanted you near me," he replied.

"I'm rather convenient company," Rose pointed out.

"Yes, I suppose you are," Cal agreed. "But you're also the only company I happen to want. Now and in the foreseeable future."

"Cal, what does that mean?" she asked wearily.

"It means I'd like you to stay. Tonight and every night."

"What if I don't want to?" she said. "I told you before I didn't want to marry you."

"I remember," he said. "But don't you like this? Being close? Don't you feel better?"

Rose sensed there was more he wanted to say, but he couldn't or wouldn't let himself. She remembered her relief at waking up and not finding herself alone. At finding herself with him. What would happen if she admitted that? Was this some sort of trick? A ploy to gain the upper hand?

"Don't be so suspicious, Rose," he said. "I've never lied to you."

"No, I guess you haven't." She was silent for a moment. "I don't want to sleep by myself."

"You don't have to." Cal touched her hand. "Stay."

...

By morning they were curled up in each other's arms. Nothing was said about it. Rose stood behind the wardrobe door and dressed. Cal turned away without being asked. "Do you need help?" she asked matter-of-factly.

"I can manage," he said.

"Your knee-"

"It's not so bad," Cal assured her. "You can go on down to breakfast."

In fact, he did need help, but pride and stubbornness wouldn't let him admit it. Rose could help him dress. She could help him get around the room. She could talk into the night and sleep in his arms. She could face death with him. But she wouldn't allow for the possibility of caring for him. Cal didn't quite know how he felt. Frustrated. Determined. Exhausted, still, despite his best efforts. But that wasn't all. He glanced at her as she left. His heart beat faster. He'd thought he loved her before, but he was wrong. Whatever he'd felt, it wasn't love. It didn't begin to compare to the way he felt now.

He couldn't bear the thought of her leaving. His instinct was to pull her close and hold her as tightly as he could, to prevent her from going by any means necessary. He needed her. Didn't she understand that? Without her, his life would be empty. But something told him to resist this urge. It would be a mistake. The more he tried to keep her, the faster he would lose her. She'd shown more of herself during their ordeal than he ever dreamed of seeing, and there was no doubt she would fight, his money be damned.

Cal finished buttoning his shirt and pulled himself to his feet, using the bedpost for support. His knee did feel much better, thanks no doubt to the efforts of their hosts, but it wasn't completely healed yet. He tested it with his weight, and pain shot up his leg. He ignored it. An idea was taking shape. It wasn't quite honest, but it wouldn't be wholly untrue. And it would keep them together a bit longer, away from prying eyes and their meddling families. Perhaps, if he played things right, it would be just long enough for Rose to change her mind.

...

"Can I help?" Rose offered. Emma smiled and shook her head. She motioned for Rose to sit. "Please, I don't mind," Rose said. "I'd like to."

"It's fine." Emma lightly touched her elbow, steering her toward the table.

Rose sat up straighter when Amos came in. He wore a cheerful expression, but she couldn't help thinking he would judge her for sitting around while Emma did all the work of getting breakfast on the table. But if that was so, he didn't show it. He merely said good morning and nodded to her.

They were about to eat when he said, "Where's your husband? Is he not feeling well?"

"He was dressing when I left," Rose replied. "He seemed improved since yesterday. Perhaps I should go check on him." It would be just like Cal to overestimate his recovery and set himself back. "You don't have to wait for us," she added. "Please. Go on with your breakfast."

Upstairs, she found Cal sprawled across the bed, dressed and clutching his knee. He wore a painful grimace. Her eyes widened, and she hurried over to him. "Cal, what's wrong?" she asked.

"Nothing." His breathing was measured. "I'm just having a little difficulty, but I'll be up in a moment."

"Did you hurt yourself?"

"I'm not sure what happened," he said. "I got dressed, and everything was fine. My still hurt, but I could handle it. I took a step, and then I think I twisted it somehow."

Rose laid her hand gently on his knee. "Does that hurt?"

Cal winced. "No."

"You're lying," she said.

"I never lie," he replied.

"Another lie." Her concern was obvious. "It feels swollen, but I can't tell if it's worse than before."

"I'm sure it's not," he said. "If you wouldn't mind helping me up, we'll go to breakfast."

"You aren't going anywhere." Rose was already up and taking hold of him. "You need to lie down."

"But it's nothing," Cal argued. "I hurt myself. Foolishly, I might add, but there's no reason to-"

"Cal, you're in pain. I won't stand by and watch you make it worse because you're too stubborn to admit it. I'm sorry to have to break this to you, but you are indeed a mortal man, subject to injury," she said. "I know how you like to think of yourself, so this must be a shock."

Cal looked amused. "Is this how you treat all your patients?"

"You're my first," she replied. "So, yes, I suppose it is. Are you comfortable?"

"Tolerably so," he said.

"I'll bring you something to eat."

...

Sid and Dan gave up looking right around the time Cal and Rose were rescued. They went back to the house, gathered what few things they had, and proceeded to light it on fire. It was Sid's idea. Dan wasn't convinced there was anything inside that could be connected to them, but Sid argued just the existence of the house might be enough. Dan gave him a skeptical look when he said that, but he didn't respond. He was starting to doubt Sid, and secretly, he envied John for getting out when he did. This whole thing had gotten completely out of hand. They'd be lucky if they didn't end up in jail, fire or no fire.

They stayed until the house was ash. As it cooled, Sid began throwing leaves and dirt over the spot where the house had been. "Can't hurt to disguise it," he said, motioning for Dan to help.

"I guess not," Dan said.

"If they manage to bring the cops out here there won't be anything to find," Sid reminded him. "Maybe they'll just think they made the whole thing up. A nice cover for a lover's getaway."

"It's possible," Dan said noncommittally.

"Look, I know this didn't work out. I'm sorry. We had a good plan," Sid said. "It should've worked. If we could do it all over again, things would go differently. I know it." His eyes shone. "We could make it work."

"We tried. Let's just leave it at that."

"If only there was some way we could still get the money." Sid spoke more to himself than Dan. "We need it even more now."

"But we don't have any hostages," Dan pointed out. "They're probably home by now."

"What if they aren't?"

"What do you mean?" Dan asked. "You think they're still out there somewhere?"

Sid shrugged. "Why not? We didn't find them."

"There's a lot of woods. We didn't cover it all."

"And how far could they get without food or water?" Sid said. "It's pretty cold at night too."

"What are you saying? You think they're dead?"

"It's possible. Likely, even. They weren't outdoorsy types," Sid replied. "People like that can't survive the real world."

Dan knew he was right. The odds were stacked pretty high against them. Still, even after everything he'd helped do to them, he didn't like thinking about them dead beneath a tree, too far out to ever be found. There was the Amish settlement, but they couldn't have made it that far. It was at least fifteen miles, and they didn't even know to look for it. And if they did find it, he doubted anyone would help them. He didn't know much about those people, but he'd always heard they didn't take outsiders well.

In fact, he was wrong about the town's location. His knowledge, such as it was, was woefully out of date, and the town had grown considerably during the past few years. Its center was still a long way off, but there were farms spread out in all directions, and one of those was Amos and Emma's. As for their distaste for outsiders, that was true, generally, but exceptions were made for those in trouble, a concept which never occurred to either of them.

"Let's get out of here," Sid suggested. "We need to put some distance between us and this place, just in case." He glanced at Dan. "Still interested in the money?"

...

"I'm not sure what happened," Rose said. "He insisted he was better, but now he's barely able to move again." She frowned, her eyes heavy with concern. "I hope it's not more serious than we thought."

"I'm sure he'll be fine," Emma said. She gave Rose's shoulder a comforting squeeze. "You've both been through a lot."

"I'm sorry we've put you to so much trouble," Rose said. "I don't know how we can ever repay you."

"There's no need for that kind of talk," Amos said.

"But of course there is," Rose said. "We'll have to do something in return. You've saved our lives. A debt like that can never be repaid, but if there's anything you need, anything you want..." She faltered. "I know how vulgar it sounds to bring up money at a time like this, but I assure you, Cal's family will pay whatever you choose."

"I'm not concerned about that," Amos said.

"I don't care about money, for myself," Rose offered. "In fact, I quite detest it." She was surprised at her honesty. What prompted this outpouring? Amos merely looked at her, inquisitive, but not judgmental. "I'm sorry," she went on. "Is there anything else I can help with?" She turned to Emma. "Are there more chores?"

"Why don't you go and sit with Cal for a while," Emma suggested. "It might make you feel better, and I'm sure he'd enjoy the company."

Rose looked uncertain. "I really should be helping."

"Go on." Emma waved her away.

Reluctantly, Rose went. Upstairs, she found Cal still stretched out on the bed, awake, staring at the ceiling. "I thought you'd never come back," he said.

She sat down on the edge of the bed. "I was helping with the breakfast dishes."

"Why?"

As if she were talking to a child, she replied, "Because they needed to be done."

"But they don't need you to do it," he said. "We aren't here to work for them."

"Maybe not, but we're here thanks to their generousity, and it's the least I can do. I only wish I could find a better way to express our gratitude for everything they're doing for us."

"When we get home, I'll have a check presented to them," he said. "A hundred dollars or so should be fine."

Rose stared at him. "Is that the going rate for saving you and the woman you love?"

"You find that unacceptable?"

"I would think our lives meant more to you," she said.

"That's a fortune to people like them," he argued. "I'm sure they'll be glad for it."

"Cal, money doesn't matter to everyone," she explained patiently. "And it certainly doesn't matter to them. Trust me."

"Is this what you came up here to discuss?"

"I came to check on you," she said. "And because Emma sent me."

"I'll have to thank her later," Cal said. His features softened. He brushed her hand with his fingertips. "Let's not argue, Rose."

"I don't want to argue," she said. "How are you feeling?"

"Better now that you're here."

"I'm hardly a cure-all," she said, suppressing a smile.

His mouth turned up in a half-grin. His voice was low, sending a shiver down her back. "You'd be surprised."

Rose took a breath, forcing her face to remain unchanged. Whatever was happening, she had to resist it. She didn't know why or how, but Cal was having some sort of effect on her. It was worse than the basement. At least there, she had the excuse of mortal terror to fall back on. But now, how could she explain it? And what was worse, did she even want to?


End file.
